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KRISTY’S RAINY DAY PICNIC 










KRISTY’S 

RAINY DAY PICNIC 


OLIVE THORNE MILLER 


WITH ILLUSTRATIONS BY 


ETHEL N. FARNSWORTH 




BOSTON 

AND NEW YORK 
HOUGHTON, 
MIFFLIN & CO. 
1906 


LIBRARY of CONGRESS 
Two Copies Received 

OCT 11 1906 

~ Copyright Entry 

0 Or,S>.fl0J 

CLASS A XXc.» No. 

rnPY B. 



COPYRIGHT 1906 BY H. M. MILLER 
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED 


Published October 1 gob 


06 - 3 ( 0 + 3 $ 


1 - « 


CONTENTS 


I. The Rainy Day 

II. Playing Doctor ; and what came of it 

III. A Schoolgirl’s Joke .... 

IV. All Night in the Schoolhouse . 

V. Molly’s Secret Room .... 

VI. How Mamma ran away .... 
VII. How Aunt Betty made her Choice . 

VIII. Nora’s Good Luck 

IX. One Little Candle .... 

X. The Locket told 

XI. How a Dog saved my Life 

XII. Lottie’s Christmas Tree 

XIII. Christmas in a Baggage-Car 

XIV. How a Bear came to School. 

XV. How Lettie had her Own Way 

XVI. How Kate found a Baby 


1 

5 
20 
27 
45 . 
61 
73 
91 
106 
123 
145 
156 
172 
189 
202 
223 











\ 














LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS 


They were playing that the wax doll was 
sick (page 6) Frontispiece 

Kristy stood peering into a world of driz- 
zling RAIN 

She had to pass a cottage almost hidden with 

FLOWERS 

In THE PARK I FOUND A BABY . . . AND I SAT 



2 

124 


DOWN BESIDE IT . 


. 226 










KRISTY’S RAINY DAY PICNIC 


CHAPTER I 

THE RAINY DAY 

“ 1 think it ’s just horrid ! ” said Kristy, stand- 
ing before the window, peering out into a world 
of drizzling rain. “ Every single thing is 
ready and every girl promised to come, and 
now it has to go and rain ; ’n’ I believe it 'll rain 
a week, anyway ! ” she added as a stronger 
gust dashed the drops against the glass. 

Kristy’s mother, who was sitting at her sew- 
ing-table at work, did not speak at once, and 
Kristy burst out again: — 

“ I wish it would never rain another drop ; 
it ’s always spoiling things ! ” 

“ Kristy,” said her mother quietly, “you re- 
mind me of a girl I knew when I was young.” 

“ What about her ? ” asked Kristy rather 
sulkily. 


2 


KRISTY’S RAINY DAY PICNIC 


“Why, she had a disappointment some- 
thing like yours, only it was n’t the weather, 
but her own carelessness, that caused it. 
She cried and made a great fuss about it, 
but before night she was very glad it had 
happened.” 

“ She must have been a very cfueer girl,” 
said Kristy. 

“ She was much such a girl as you, Kristy ; 
and the reason she was glad was because her 
loss was the cause of her having a far greater 
pleasure.” 

“ Tell me about it,” said Kristy, interested 
at once, and leaving the window. 

“ W ell, she was dressed for a party at the 
house of one of her friends, and as she ran down 
the walk to join the girls in the hay- wagon that 
was to take them all there, her dress caught on 
something and tore a great rent clear across 
the front breadth.” 

“Well; couldn’t she put on another?” 
asked Kristy. 

“ Girls didn’t have many dresses in those 
days, and that was a new one made on purpose 



£.n.£ 





ri&ttj £tood , peerinji into. 4 
morld of drmttwj Ram 


♦ 





HER DRESS RUINED 3 

for the occasion. She had no other that she 
would wear.” 

“ What did she do ? ” asked Kristy. 

“ She turned and ran back into the house, 
held up her ruined dress for her mother to 
see, and then flung herself on the lounge 
with a burst of tears. Her mother had to 
go out and tell the girls that Bessie could 
not go.” 

“ That was horrid ! ” said Kristy earnestly; 
u but why was she glad, for you said she was? ” 

u She was, indeed ; for an hour later her 
father drove up to the door and said that he 
was obliged to go to the city on business, and 
if Bessie could be ready in fifteen minutes, he 
would take her and let her spend a few days 
with her cousin Helen, who had been urging 
her to visit her. This was a great treat, for 
Bessie had never been to a large city, and 
there was nothing she wanted so much to do. 
You see, if she had been away at the party, 
she would have missed this pleasure, for her 
father could not wait longer. She forgot her 
disappointment in a moment, and hurried to get 


4 


KRISTY’S RAINY DAY PICNIC 


ready, while her mother packed a satchel with 
things she would need.” 

By this time Kristy was seated close by her 
mother, eagerly interested in the story. 

Mrs. Crawford paused. 

“ Do go on, mamma,” said Kristy ; “ tell me 
more about her. Did she have a nice time in 
the city ?” 

“ She did,” went on Mrs. Crawford ; “ so nice 
that her father was persuaded to leave her 
there, and she stayed more than a week. There 
was one scrape, however, that the girls got into 
that was not so very nice.” 

“ Tell me about it,” said Kristy eagerly. 

“ Well,” said her mother, “this is the way 
it happened.” 


CHAPTER II 


PLAYING DOCTOR ; AND WHAT CAME OF IT 

One rainy Saturday afternoon when they were 
not allowed to go out, Bessie and Helen were 
playing with their dolls in the nursery. 

Helen had a large family of dolls of many 
kinds : stiff kid-bodied dolls with heads made 
of some sort of composition that broke very 
easily, and legs and feet from the knees down 
of wood, with slippers of pink or blue painted 
on ; others all wood, with jointed legs and 
arms, that could sit down ; whole families of 
paper dolls cut from cardboard, with large 
wardrobes of garments of gilt and colored 
paper which the girls made themselves. Then 
there was a grand wax doll with real hair 
which hung in curls, and lips slightly open 
showing four tiny white teeth. This lovely 
creature was dressed in pink gauze, and was 
far too fine for every day. It lived in the 


6 


KRISTY’S RAINY DAY PICNIC 


lower bureau drawer in Helen’s room, and 
was brought out only on special occasions. 

Dearest of all was a doll her mother made 
for her, of white cloth with a face painted on 
it, and head of hair made of what used to be 
called a “ false front.” This delightful doll 
was quite a wonder in those days. It had a 
wardrobe as well made as Helen’s own, in- 
cluding stockings and shoes, and could be 
dressed and undressed and combed and 
brushed to her heart’s content. 

Well, one morning, — a rainy Saturday, as 
I said, — the two girls were very busy with the 
big family of dolls. They were playing that 
the wax doll was sick and they were Doctor 
and Nurse. Many tiny beads — called pills 
— and several drops from a bottle out of the 
family medicine case had been thrust be- 
tween the teeth of this unlucky creature, when 
the thought struck Helen that a living patient 
would be more fun than a doll. So she 
hunted up a half-grown kitten that belonged 
to her little brother Robbie. 

The kitten was dressed for her part in a 


THE KITTEN LOST 


7 


white towel pinned around her and a pointed 
cap of paper on her head. Very droll she 
looked, but she was not so easy to manage as 
the doll. Beads she refused to swallow, but 
thrust them out on her small pink tongue, 
and she struggled violently when a drop of 
the medicine was given to her. In fact, her 
struggles made Helen’s arm joggle, and sent 
more down her throat than she meant to give 
her. 

Finally, the kitten struggled and fought so 
violently that they let her go, when she ran 
quickly down the stairs, and hid where they 
could not find her. 

The next morning the kitten was missing, to 
Robbie’s great grief. The house was searched 
in vain, and the two girls began to fear that 
medicine was not good for her. 

Feeling very guilty, they hunted everywhere 
on the place, and at last found the poor little 
dead body behind a box in the cellar, where 
she had crept to die. 

The girls were horrified to think their play 
had killed her. They felt like murderers, and 


8 


KRISTY’S RAINY DAY PICNIC 


stole out into the arbor to think and plan 
what they should do. They dared not confess ; 
they feared some sort of punishment for their 
crime, and they knew it would make Robbie 
very unhappy. 

After much talk, they decided to dispose of 
the body secretly and not tell any one of their 
part in the sad business. But how to do it 
was the question that troubled them. They 
dared not bury it, for fresh digging in that 
small city yard would arouse suspicion at once. 
Bessie suggested that they should carry it 
far off in the night and throw it away. This 
plan seemed the best they could think of, till 
Helen said they would not be allowed to go 
out in the city after dark. 

“ I ’ll tell you,” said Bessie at last. “ I can 
do up a nice package, — Uncle Tom taught 
me, — and I’ll do it up, and we can take it 
away in the daytime ; no one will know what 
it is, and then we can lose it somewhere.” 

This plan was adopted. Helen got paper 
and string, and when everybody had gone to 
church that evening, they brought up the poor 


HELEN’S DISMAY 


9 


kitten, and Bessie made a very neat package 
which no one could suspect. This they hid 
away till they could get it out of the house. 

After school the next day they got leave 
to visit a schoolmate who lived far up town, 
and Helen’s mother gave them money to ride 
in the omnibus — or stage, as they called it — 
which would take them there. There were no 
street cars then. 

Hiding the small bundle under her cape, 
Bessie slipped out at the door, feeling now 
not only like a murderer, but like a thief be- 
sides. 

They took the stage and rode up town, the 
package lying openly on Helen’s lap. When 
the stage reached Nineteenth Street it stopped, 
and to Helen’s horror one of her schoolmates 
came in. She was delighted to see the girls, 
and seated herself beside Helen. 

“ Where you going ? ” she asked. 

“ We ’re going to see Lottie Hart,” an- 
swered Helen. 

“ Why, so am I ! ” she exclaimed ; “ ain’t it 
fun that we met so ? ” 


10 


KRISTY’S RAINY DAY PICNIC 


“ Yes/’ said Helen, but she was filled with 
dismay. How could she get rid of her pack- 
age ! 

“ What are you taking up to Lottie ? ” 
was the next question, as the unfortunate 
bundle was noticed. 

“ Oh, nothing! ” said Helen, trying to speak 
carelessly ; “ it ’s something of mine.” 

Julia looked as if she did not believe her 
but said no more, though she looked sharply 
at it. 

Meanwhile Helen was trying to plan some 
way of getting out of the unpleasant scrape, 
and at last she said hurriedly, pulling the 
strap at the same moment to stop the stage, 
“ We ’re going to stop here to do an errand ; 
we ’ll come on soon. Tell Lottie we ’re com- 
ing,” she added, as she saw the look of sur- 
prise on her friend’s face. 

“ Why, I ’ll stop too — and we ’ll all go on 
together,” she began, half rising, but Helen 
interrupted rather shortly : “ No ; you go on 
and tell her we ’re coming ; we might be de- 
tained, you know.” And without another word 


TROUBLE BREWING 


11 


the two conspirators hurried out and turned 
down a side street. 

“ Was n’t it horrid that Jule should get 
in ? ” said Helen, as soon as the stage had 
moved on. “ She’s the greatest tattler in 
school ; she ’ll make a great talk about it. She 
was very curious about that package.” 

“ Where shall we go now ? ” asked Bessie. 
“ Shall we really go to Lottie’s after we lose 
the bundle?” 

“ No indeed ! They ’d tease us to death 
about it. I don’t know where we ’ll go,” she 
added, for she was getting rather cross. “ I 
wish we ’d left the old cat in the cellar any- 
way ; it was a silly plan to do this.” 

u I think you ’re real mean to talk so,” 
said Bessie indignantly, for it was her plan, 
you remember. “I don’t care if the whole 
town knows it ! it was n’t my fault anyway — 
’n’ I ’m going home tomorrow — so there ! ” 

This brought Helen to her senses, for she 
did n’t want Bessie to go home, and she re- 
membered that she was the one who had spilled 
the medicine. 


12 KRISTY’S RAINY DAY PICNIC 

“ I did n’t mean that ” — she said quickly ; 
u I meant going in the stage ’n’ all that.” 

During this little talk the girls had walked 
a block or two. “ But where shall we go 
now ? ” asked Bessie anxiously, for she felt 
lost among so many streets all looking just 
alike. 

“ There ’s a ferry at the end of the street,” 
said Helen, brightening up ; “I didn’t think of 
that. We might cross it and lose the bundle 
in the river.” 

“ That ’ll be easy,” said Bessie, and with 
fresh courage they walked on. 

It was a long way to the ferry, and two 
rather tired girls went on to the boat, having 
paid their fare with the last penny they had, 
for they had expected to walk home from 
Lottie’s. They forgot until they had started 
that they had no money to get back, and 
that thought so frightened Helen that she al- 
most forgot about the first pressing business 
of getting rid of her package. 

There seemed to be as much trouble about 
that as ever, for the boat was full of passen- 


NO MONEY! 


13 


gers and somebody was all the time looking 
at them. They dared not drop it in when 
any one was looking, for fear they would 
think it very queer, and perhaps try to get it 
for them. Helen had heard of such things. 

They walked to the front end of the boat, 
but could not find a chance when no one was 
looking ; and indeed no doubt their manner 
was so strange that they aroused the curiosity 
of everybody. 

One of the deck-hands, too, kept close watch 
of them, and when they went to the front of 
the boat, hoping to get where they would not be 
noticed, he came up to them and said to Helen : 

“ Look out, Miss ! you might slip and fall 
overboard,”, and kept near them as if he sus- 
pected that she meant to jump into the river. 

“ We can’t do it here,” Helen whispered; 
“ we’ll have to go back — and I haven’t an- 
other cent ; have you any money, Bessie ? ” 

“No!” answered Bessie in horror; “oh, 
what can we do ! ” 

Helen thought very hard for a few minutes, 
and then remembering that they had paid 


14 


KRISTY’S RAINY DAY PICNIC 


their fare in the ferry-house, she thought per- 
haps if they stayed on the boat and did not 
go through the ferry-house, they might go 
back without paying. She whispered all this 
to Bessie, who by this time was frightened 
half out of her wits, wondering if they would 
ever get back over the river, and thinking of 
all the terrible things she had heard in stories 
about being lost. She looked so scared that 
Helen, who was used to the city and was sure 
she could find some way, had to seem more 
brave than she really felt. 

“We better go back into the cabin,” she 
whispered, “ so that man won’t see that we 
don’t get off.” So they took seats in one 
corner of the cabin, as the people began to 
hurry off, hoping with all their hearts that 
no one would notice them. 

But that deck-hand did not lose sight of 
them, and when the cabin was empty he came 
in. “It ’s time to get off, Miss,” he said; “ we 
don’t go any farther.” 

“We don’t want to get off,” said Helen; 
“ we ’re going back.” 


BESSIE BEGAN TO CRY 


15 


“But you have n’t paid your fare/’ he said 
gruffly. 

On this Bessie really began to cry, and 
Helen, though she tried to brave it out, 
trembled. 

“ Can’t we go back without, if we don’t go 
to the ferry-house ? ” she said, with trembling 
lips. “We have n’t any more money and we 
want to go home.” 

On this the man was softened and probably 
ashamed of his suspicions, for he turned and 
said as he went out of the door, “ W ell, if 
the capt’n don’t object, I don’t care.” 

Then the people began to come in, and the 
two girls sat trembling, dreading that every 
man who entered was the captain to demand 
their fare. 

In this new trouble they forgot the bundle, 
and did not attempt to get rid of it on the river. 

When they were safely away from the ferry- 
boat and on the street on the home side, they 
felt better, and began to think again of what 
they wanted now more than ever to do. They 
both felt that if they ever got safely home 


16 KRISTY’S RAINY DAY PICNIC 

and out of this scrape they would never 
— never — get into another one again. 

As they trudged wearily along, full of 
these good resolutions, they came to a row of 
houses set back a little in the yards with 
grass and shrubs growing. 

Bessie whispered, “ Could n’t you drop it 
under one of these bushes, Helen ? See ; there ’s 
a lilac very thick and down to the ground.” 

Sure enough ; there was a most convenient 
bush close to the fence. 

“ Is anybody looking ? ” whispered Helen, 
glancing around fearfully. 

“ No ; I don’t see anybody,” answered Bes- 
sie. “ Do it! do it ! quick ! ” eagerly. 

No sooner said than done ; the package 
that had made them so much trouble was 
hastily thrust far under a broad-spreading 
lilac bush, and with a gasp, Helen started on 
a mad run down the street followed closely 
by Bessie. Not until they had turned a cor- 
ner and passed into another street, did the 
two culprits dare to take a long breath and 
begin to walk. 


SAFELY HOME 


17 


As they got farther and farther away, and 
no one followed them, they grew less fright- 
ened, and then they found themselves very, 
very tired, with still a long way to go to reach 
home. 

It was almost dark when two tired and 
hungry girls reached the steps of their own 
home and safety. 

“I’m half starved! ” said Helen, as they 
dragged themselves up the stairs. 

“ So ’m I,” said Bessie. 

“You go onto my room,” whispered Helen, 
“ and I ’ll go down and see if I can get some- 
thing to eat — it is n’t near supper time.” 

In a few minutes she came up with some 
cakes which they eagerly devoured, and felt 
that their troubles were over. They had, how- 
ever, one more ordeal. 

At the supper table Helen’s mother asked : 
“ How did you find Lottie ? Did you have a 
pleasant time ? ” 

Helen hesitated a moment and then said 
hastily : — 

“We did n’t go there ; we met Jule Day- 


18 KRISTY’S RAINY DAY PICNIC 

ton going there, so we got out at S — Street 
and walked down to the river.” 

Helen’s mother eyed the girls sharply. “ You 
must have had a long walk.” 

u We did,” answered Helen, u and we’re aw- 
ful hungry ; ” adding quickly as she saw an- 
other question on her mother’s lips, “ I ’ll tell 
you all about it after supper.” 

And she did. Alone with her mother the 
two girls confessed — told the whole story 
and promised never, never again to try to 
deceive. 

“ That was a good story,” said Kristy, as 
her mother ended. “ You never told me any- 
thing about that Bessie before. Do you know 
anything more about her?” 

Kristy’s manner was rather suspicious and 
Mrs. Crawford smiled as she answered : — 

“ Yes ; I know a good deal about her and 
I ’ll tell you more some day.” 

“ Tell me now ! ” begged Kristy ; “ I be- 
lieve I know who she was. Was her name 
really Bessie ? ” 


KRISTY GUESSES 


19 


“ No matter about that,” answered Mrs. 
Crawford ; “ if I told you her real name, per- 
haps I should n’t like to tell you so much 
about her.” 

“ Oh, well ! then you need n’t ; but I guess 
I can guess.” 

“ I guess you can guess all you like,” said 
mamma, smiling again. 

“ One thing more I remember now that 
happened during that famous visit, which was 
not quite so tragical as the death of the poor 
kitten.” 


CHAPTER III 


A SCHOOLGIRL’S JOKE 

The school to which Helen went — and 
where Bessie went with her — was not like 
the great schoolhouses they have now. It 
had but two rooms, one for girls and the other 
for boys. Some of the school windows opened 
on the street, and one morning when all was 
quiet in the schoolroom an organ-grinder 
suddenly began to play under the open 
windows. 

The girls looked up from their books and 
listened, the teacher looked annoyed, but 
thinking he would soon go on, she waited. 
The girls began to get restless ; study was at 
an end; and at last when the grinder had 
played all his airs and begun again, the 
teacher went to the door to ask him to go. 
In the hall she met the teacher of the boys, 
who was on the same errand, for the boys 


THE JOKE BECOMES SERIOUS 21 


were all excited and getting very noisy. In 
fact school work was stopped in both rooms. 

The man refused to move on, and at last 
gave as his excuse, that he had been hired by 
one of the scholars to play there an hour. 

The teachers tried to make him tell who 
had hired him, and finally he said it was a 
small boy with red hair. Finding him deter- 
mined to earn his money by playing the whole 
hour, the- teachers went back to their rooms, 
sure that they knew the culprit and that he 
should be punished. 

There was only one small boy with red hair 
in the school, and he was called up and ac- 
cused of the prank. He declared that he knew 
nothing about it, — that he never did it, — and 
began to cry when the teacher brought from 
his desk a long ruler which the boys knew too 
well, for when one broke the rules he was 
punished by being first lectured before the 
whole school, and then ordered to hold out 
his hand and receive several blows from it. 

The poor little red-haired boy cried harder 
than ever when this appeared, and again pro- 


22 KRISTY’S RAINY DAY PICNIC 

tested that he did not do it. Then a voice 
from the back of the room spoke timidly : 
“ Perhaps the girls know something about it.” 

This was a new idea ; it had not occurred 
to the master that the man might have told a 
falsehood to shield the real culprit, and he 
laid down the ruler, telling the sobbing boy 
that he might go to his seat while he inquired 
into it. Meanwhile the organ-grinder went 
on with his work and the whole school was in 
an uproar. 

When the girls’ teacher heard the sugges- 
tion that perhaps some of her pupils might 
be guilty, she was very much vexed. But or- 
dering all books put aside, she gave them 
a serious lecture on the trouble that had been 
made by that mischief, and then called upon 
the guilty one, if she were there, to rise and 
receive her sentence, and save the small boy 
sobbing in the next room from a punishment 
that he did not deserve. 

Upon this, sixty girls — the whole room 
full — rose together as one girl. 

The teacher was amazed — almost in con- 


THE PUNISHMENT 23 

sternation. She first made one of them tell 
the story, when it came out that it was the 
prank of one of their number — whose name 
she would not give. 

“ Who was it? ” interrupted Kristy eagerly; 
“ was it Bessie ? ” 

“ No/’ answered her mother, “ not alone ; 
but it was her cousin Helen who was full of 
such foolish jokes, seconded by Bessie. She 
had asked the organ-grinder how much he 
would charge to play under the school win- 
dows an hour, and when he said sixty cents, 
she had gone around among the girls and got 
a penny from each so that all should be 
guilty.” 

The teacher’s next thought was how to 
punish sixty girls, but she was quick-witted, 
and bidding them resume their seats, she gave 
them another lecture, and then said : “ Since 
you are all guilty, you shall all be punished.” 

She then ordered text-books to be laid 
aside and slates and pencils to be brought out 


24 


KRISTY’S RAINY DAY PICNIC 


— for this happened before quiet paper had 
taken the place of noisy slates. 

Each girl produced from her desk a large 
slate, and waited further orders. Then the 
teacher wrote in large letters on the black- 
board these words : — 

I LOYE TO HEAR THE ORGAN-GRINDER PLAY 

and ordered each girl to write that upon her 
slate over and over and over again for one hour. 

This seemed like a very easy punishment, 
and then began a vigorous scratching of pen- 
cils, with shy laughing glances between the cul- 
prits, while the teacher took a book and began 
to read, keeping, however, a sharp eye on the 
pupils to see that no one shirked her work. 
When one announced that her slate was full, 
she was told to sponge it off and begin again. 

Never was an hour so long ! The lively 
scratching of pencils soon began to lag, and 
the teacher had to spur them on again, afid 
now and then she walked down between the 
desks and looked at the slates to see that no 
one failed to obey orders. 


A LONG — LONG HOUR 


25 


Many eager glances were turned upon the 
clock ; 'recess-time came — and went ; the 
boys were let out and their shouts and calls 
came in at the window, but the silence in the 
room of the girls was broken only by the 
scratching of slate-pencils and the sighs of 
weary girls, — for it had long ceased to be 
funny. 

When at last that tiresome old clock struck 
the hour, they were made to put away their 
slates and resume their lessons, and no recess 
at all did they have that morning. 

“ That was an awful funny prank/’ said 
Kristy ; “ and was n’t it a cute punishment ! ” 
she added, getting up to look out of the win- 
dow again. “ Rain ! rain ! rain ! ” she said, in 
a vexed tone, “ nothing but rain to-day.” 

“ There are worse storms than rain, Kristy,” 
said her mother. 

“I don’t see what can be worse,” said 
Kristy, returning to her seat. 

“ What would you say to a blizzard ? ” 
asked mamma. 


26 KRISTY’S RAINY DAY PICNIC 

“ What ’s a blizzard ? ” said Kristy. 

“ It ’s a kind of storm they have out on 
the western prairies; let me tell you about 
one. 


CHAPTER IV 

ALL NIGHT IN THE SCHOOLHOUSE 

It was very quiet one winter day in the lit- 
tle schoolhouse out on the prairie near the 
village of B — . 

The afternoon was wearing away, and 
thoughts of home and the warm supper 
awaiting them began to stir in the children’s 
thoughts, and many glances were turned to 
the clock which was busily ticking the min- 
utes away. 

Suddenly, without the least warning, a 
severe blast of wind struck the little school- 
house and shook it to its foundations, while 
at the same moment a great darkness fell 
upon the world, as if the sun had been stricken 
out of the heavens. 

“ A blizzard ! ” came trembling from the 
lips of the older scholars, who well knew the 
enemy which had suddenly descended upon 
them. 


28 KRISTY’S RAINY DAY PICNIC 

Miss Grey, the teacher, left her seat and 
hurried to the window. Nothing was to be 
seen but snow. Not the soft, feathery flakes 
of eastern storms, but sharp ice-like particles 
that cut and stung when it beat against the 
flesh, like needles. 

Here was a situation ! Though new to the 
country, Miss Grey had been warned of the 
terrible storms which sometimes descended 
upon it, obliterating every landmark, and so 
blinding and bewildering one that even the 
sense of direction was lost, while the icy 
wind that came with it, seemed to freeze the 
very vitals, and left many lost and frozen in 
its path. 

Though it was her first sight of the mon- 
ster, she recognized it in a moment, and her 
instant thought was, “ 0 God ! what can I do 
with these children ? ” And a faintness, al- 
most a feeling of despair, came over her. Then 
seeing that all order was at an end, and the 
children were huddled about her, some cry- 
ing and all terrified, she pulled herself to- 
gether, realizing that to avert a real panic 


A PERILOUS SITUATION 29 

she must arouse herself. She returned to her 
seat, and in as calm a voice as she could com- 
mand, she ordered the children back to their 
seats, to give her time to consider what she 
could do. 

“ Please may I go home ? ” came anxiously 
from small lips of the younger children. Older 
ones knew well that one step beyond the 
door they would be lost, for years of experi- 
ence with blizzards and the stern directions 
of parents never to venture out in one was 
thoroughly impressed on their minds. 

“Wait till I think!” was the answer of 
the teacher to these requests ; and for a few 
moments she did try to think, but all the 
time she knew in her heart that she should 
have to keep them all, and make them as 
comfortable as she could; 

At length she spoke. “ You know, children, 
that it will not be safe to go out in the storm. 
You could not find your way ; you would be 
lost and perhaps perish in the snow. We 
must just be patient and make ourselves as 
comfortable as we can. You may put away 


30 


KRISTY’S RAINY DAY PICNIC 


your books/’ — for she saw that study or school 
work would be impossible in their state of ex- 
citement. With sudden inspiration she went 
on: “ We will have a recess, and I will tell 
you a story, but first we must have some 
more wood. Harry, will you bring some ? ” 
Harry Field was her oldest scholar and 
gave her the most trouble. He was in fact 
full-grown and seventeen years old. He did 
the work of a man on the farm all summer, 
but being anxious to get more of an educa- 
tion, he went to school in winter. 

That was commendable, and Miss Grey 
was glad to help him ; but though a man in 
size, he had not outgrown the boy in him, 
and he sometimes gave her a great deal of 
trouble by putting the younger ones up to 
mischief or teasing them past endurance. 

With Harry, Miss Grey dreaded the most 
trouble, but real danger brought out his 
manly side and he at once ranged himself on 
her side to stand by her and help. 

On her request, he went to the passage- 
way where wood was kept and returned with 


A NEW HORROR 31 

a small armful and a white face. He whis- 
pered to Miss Grey : “ This is the last 

stick ! ” 

A new horror was thus added to the situation, 
but Miss Grey assumed a confidence she by 
no means felt. “ Then we must burn up 
the wood-box,” she said calmly. 

“ I will split it up,” said Harry ; “ I know 
where the axe is kept.” 

This was some relief. Permission was 
granted, and in a few minutes the vigorous 
blows of the axe were heard, and soon he re- 
turned with a glowing face and a big armful 
of wood. Miss Grey called for quiet and 
began to tell her story. 

Never was story-telling so hard ; she could 
not collect her thoughts ; she could not think 
of a single thing that would interest that 
frightened crowd. The blizzard — the horror 
of it — the dread of what it might bring to 
these children under her charge — then the 
terrors of hunger and cold, and panic of fear, 
which seemed impossible to prevent, almost 
deprived her of her reason. She felt a strong 


32 


KRISTY’S RAINY DAY PICNIC 


impulse to run away, to fling herself into the 
very thick of the storm and perish. 

Then a glance at the intelligent and fearless 
face of Harry gave her new courage. “ Harry/’ 
she said, in a low tone, “ you are the oldest 
here — you must help me. Can’t you tell a 
story while I try to think?” 

“ I don’t know,” hesitated Harry. 

“ Do think ! ” she said earnestly ; “ these 
children will work themselves into a panic, 
and then how can we manage them ! ” 

“Well perhaps I can,” said Harry, pleased 
to be her helper; then after a moment, “ I guess 
I can ; I ’ll tell them about a bear I saw once 
in the woods.” 

“ Oh, do !” said Miss Grey, sinking back in 
her chair. 

In a moment Harry began, and as the story 
was really a thrilling one and he told it with 
enthusiasm, the children quieted down and 
listened. 

Meanwhile Miss Grey had somewhat recov- 
ered herself and made some definite plans for 
the rest of the day. 


MORE TROUBLE 


33 


When the story ended with the sensational 
end of the bear, the details of which Harry 
enlarged upon till they became very exciting, 
Miss Grey was calm again. 

Thanking Harry, she then proposed to tell 
a story herself, when a faint little voice spoke 
up, “ Oh, I’m so hungry,” and was echoed by 
many more, “ So ’m I.” 

This was the most pressing trouble, as Miss 
Grey well knew. With Harry at the axe, they 
could be kept warm ; but how to satisfy their 
hunger ! She had a plan, however. 

“ Did any of you have any dinner left in 
your baskets ? ” she asked. 

Two or three said that they had, when she 
ordered all baskets and pails to be brought 
to her. 

Even when all were emptied there was a 
very meagre supply for a dozen hearty, coun- 
try appetites, and her heart sank ; but, telling 
those who had anything that of course what 
there was must be divided between all, she 
portioned it out as well as she could, leaving 
none for herself. 


34 


KRISTY’S RAINY DAY PICNIC 


“ But you have nothing yourself ! ” said 
Harry, who was distributing the small supply. 

“ Oh, I don’t want anything,” said Miss 
Grey. 

“ Nor I either,” said Harry ; “ I ’ll give up 
my share.” 

“ You ’d better not, Harry,” said Miss Grey, 
with a smile of thanks ; “ you are young.” 

“ Yes, and strong,” said Harry, adding his 
small portion to the others. “ I guess I can 
stand it if you can.” 

“ Thank you, Harry ; I don’t know what I 
should do without you.” 

Then Miss Grey began her story, hoping 
to make the children forget their hunger. 
She took her cue from Harry’s bear story 
and added harrowing incidents and thrilling 
experiences, as many as she could think of, 
trying to remember some of the stories of ad- 
venture she had read. 

When the children got tired and began to 
be restless, she brought out her next resource : 
she proposed a game, and in a few minutes 
the whole school was romping and shouting 


A DANGEROUS EXPERIMENT 35 

and enjoying the novelty of a real play in 
the schoolroom. 

When at last they sat down warm and 
breathless, she began again. This time she 
sang them some songs ; some that she re- 
membered her mother singing to her in the 
nursery. But she found this a rather danger- 
ous experiment, for the thought of that happy 
time contrasted with the anxieties of this, 
with a dozen frightened children on her 
hands, cut off from all the world, nearly 
overcame her. But she rallied again, and this 
time proposed a song that all could sing. 

After that she told another story, making 
it as long and as stirring as she possibly could. 

By this time it was quite dark so that the 
stove-door was left open to give a little light, 
and the younger ones began to cry quietly 
with sleepiness. 

All the children were sent to the hall to 
bring their wraps, and then beginning with 
the smallest, they were all put to bed on the 
benches. These benches, fortunately, had 
backs, and by putting two of them face to 


36 KRISTY’S RAINY DAY PICNIC 

face they made a bed, which, if hard and 
cheerless, would certainly keep them from 
falling out. 

When the last one had been made as com- 
fortable as could be done under the circum- 
stances, Miss Grey sang several rather sleepy 
verses, and when long breathing announced 
the sleep of some, she sank back in her chair 
exhausted. 

“ I ’ll keep the fire going, Miss Grey,” said 
her gallant helper, Harry. “ You try to sleep, 
or at least to rest.” 

“ Indeed, Harry, I could n’t sleep if I tried. 
You know about these storms — how long do 
they usually last ? Do you suppose some one 
will come for us ? ” 

u Why, Miss Grey,” said Harry, “ I suppose 
every man in the village is out now trying to get 
to us — surely every man who has a child in 
school.” 

“ I suppose every mother is half crazy,” 
said Miss Grey. 

“ No doubt she is,” said Harry. 

Now when all was quiet inside the room, 


THE RAGING STORM 


37 


Miss Grey had leisure to listen to the rage of the* 
elements outside. How the savage wind roared 
and beat upon the lonely little building as if it 
would tear it to pieces and scatter its ruins over 
the pitiless prairie ; how the icy storm beat 
against the staring great windows as if in its 
fury it would crash them in and bury them all. 
It was fearful, and Miss Grey, unused to storms 
of such violence, shuddered as she listened. 

“ Harry,” she whispered with white lips, 
“ is n’t this the worst storm you ever knew ? 
It seems as if it must blow the house down.” 

“No,” said Harry, “I think they’re all 
about alike. I was caught out in one once.” 

“ Were you ? Did you get lost ? ” 

“ Oh, yes indeed ; my father was with me and 
we wandered around, it seemed for hours, till 
we saw a light and got to a farmhouse, miles 
away from where we thought we were. I was 
so stiff with cold I couldn’t walk. I was a 
kid then ” — he hastily added, “ and my fa- 
ther had to carry me to the house. He froze 
his ears and his nose that time.” 

“ Well, this is the most awful storm I ever 


38 


KRISTY'S RAINY DAY PICNIC 


knew/’ said Miss Grey. “ I feel now as if I 
should run away from this place as soon as 
my term is up.” 

“ Don’t,” said Harry earnestly ; “ you’re the 
best teacher we ever had — don’t go away ! ” 

For some time not much was said between 
the two watchers. The children — most of 
them — slept. 

“ Harry,” said Miss Grey, after a while, 
“ you did n’t answer my question of how long 
these storms usually last.” 

Harry looked a little confused, for he had 
purposely not answered it, fearing to discour- 
age her. 

“ Sometimes,” he said, hesitatingly, “it is 
over in a few hours, but sometimes,” he added 
more slowly, “ one has lasted two or three days.” 

“ Oh ! ” cried Miss Grey in horror, “ what 
can I do with the children ! They ’ll be hun- 
gry as bears when they wake ! ” 

“ Oh, they’ll surely find us as soon as 
morning comes,” said Harry. “ I wish we 
could show a light now ; they might be right 
on us and not see us.” 


A WORLD OF SNOW 


39 


“ That ’s true — but there ’s no possible 
way of making one. We ought to have can- 
dles and matches, and I ’ll see that we have — 
if we ever get out of this/’ she added, in a 
lower tone. 

After what seemed interminable hours, day- 
light began to creep through the windows. It 
gave little hope, for the wind was strong as 
ever, and nothing could be seen but a world 
of whirling, rushing, blinding snow. And be- 
fore it was fully light the children began to 
wake ; soon they were all awake and most of 
them crying with hunger and fright. 

Then the scenes of the afternoon were re- 
peated. The worn-out teacher sang and told 
stories, and led in games till she was ready to 
drop with exhaustion. 

About noon a shout startled them, and 
Harry rushed to the door; indeed all started 
for it in a mad rush, but Miss Grey ordered 
them back so sternly that they obeyed. 

In a moment the room was full of men — 
or were they some strange snow-monsters? — 
clad in white from head to foot, and so dis- 


40 KRISTY’S RAINY DAY PICNIC 

guised by the snow that no child could know 
his own father. 

With joy and relief, Miss Grey almost 
fainted, while the men, after assuring them- 
selves that all the children were safe, listened 
to Harry’s animated story of the terrible night, 
and then applauded Miss Grey for her heroic 
labors. 

She did not look heroic now, for she had 
sunk back in her chair almost as white as the 
world outside the windows. When the weary 
men had rested a little and warmed themselves, 
the children were wrapped up in extra wraps 
the men had brought, and Miss Grey rallied 
and prepared to set out on her fight for life, 
through the still raging storm. 

They had made some sort of a path through 
the drifts as they came, and though little 
signs of it were left, there was enough to 
guide these hardy men used to such storms. 
Every man took his child in his arms and all 
started out, Miss Grey under the care of her 
faithful Harry. 

At first she clung to his arm, but the snow 


HE SAVED HER LIFE 


41 


was everywhere; it filled her eyes and took 
away her breath, the wind blew her skirts and 
impeded her steps, and in her state of nervous 
exhaustion she was very soon overcome. A 
dull stupor came over her, and, letting go her 
hold on the arm of her protector, she sank 
down into the snow unconscious. 

From that state she would never have roused 
but for the efforts of Harry. There was not 
a moment to lose; the rest of the party were 
almost out of sight, and to lose them would 
be to be without a guide in this wilderness of 
snow. 

It was no time for ceremony. With a hasty 
“ You must excuse me, then,” Harry took her 
light form up in his arms and trudged on as 
well as he could, striving only to keep the 
men in sight. 

When, after efforts that tried his strength 
to its limits, he reached the farmhouse where 
Miss Grey boarded, he staggered up the steps, 
burst open the door, and almost fell on the 
floor with his unconscious burden. 

The family rushed to his aid; took Miss 


42 


KRISTY’S RAINY DAY PICNIC 


Grey’s l im p form, laid it on a lounge, and 
some set to work to restore her, while others 
helped Harry to free himself from snow and 
thaw himself out. 

When, after some time, Miss Grey was fully 
recovered, and both she and Harry had eaten 
a very welcome breakfast, he rose to go to his 
own home not far away, she rose, too, and said 
earnestly : — 

“ Harry, I don’t know what to say ! I be- 
lieve you have saved my life — what can I 
say — what can I ever do ” — 

“ Promise that you won’t give up the school 
and go away ! ” burst eagerly from Harry’s 
lips. 

“ Do you really care so much to have me 
•stay ? ” she asked, somewhat surprised, for 
she had sometimes been obliged to assert her 
authority very sternly. 

“ Yes, I do ! ” he said, bluntly. “ I — I” — 
he went on embarrassed, “ I ’ve been a don- 
key and given you trouble — I ’d like to kick 
myself — but you ’re a brick and I’ll behave 
myself — if you ’ll stay.” 


BETTER THAN HIS WORD 


43 


u I will,” said Miss Grey cordially, “ and I 
depend on you to be the help you were last 
night. I might never ” — here she broke down. 

“ You ’ll see,” said Harry bluntly, as he 
opened the door to go. 

She did. He was better than his word, for 
he seemed to have shaken off all his boyish- 
ness from that terrible day. He not only at- 
tended to his studies, but he became her aid 
and assistant on all occasions, and his exam- 
ple as well as his influence made the little 
school far different from what it had been. 
Before spring, Miss Grey had become so at- 
tached to her scholars and the little town 
that she had no wish to leave them. She, 
however, learned to see in time the coming of 
a storm and she provided herself with the 
means of getting help, so that she was never 
again made prisoner with a roomful of chil- 
dren by a blizzard. 

“ Mamma,” said Kristy, after a few mo- 
ments’ silence, “ why did you never tell me 
anything about that Bessie before ? ” 


44 


KRISTY’S RAINY DAY PICNIC 


Mamma smiled. “ I did n’t want to tell you 
everything at once ; I wanted to save some 
till you were a little older.” 

“ I guess there ’s another reason, too,” said 
Kristy, looking very wise ; 66 1 guess they 
are about some one I know.” Mamma smiled . 
again, but said nothing for a moment till 
Kristy began again. 

“ Tell me another.” 

“Well; let me see,” said Mrs. Crawford. 
“ I don’t think of anything else interesting 
that happened to Bessie while she was in the 
city, and soon after the affair of the dead kit- 
ten she went home. But I remember another 
thing that happened about that time which 
I will tell you after lunch.” 

“ Oh, tell it now ! ” demanded Kristy, look- 
ing at the clock which pointed to ten min- 
utes after twelve. 

“Well; perhaps there is time,” said her 
mother. 


CHAPTER V 


MOLLY’S SECRET ROOM 

When Molly was a little girl eight or ten 
years old, she was living in the city with her 
two sisters who took care of her. 

They had no father or mother, and the sis- 
ters were clerks in a store, for they had to 
support themselves. They lived in one room, 
high up in a business block, so as to be near 
their work, which was indeed in the very next 
building. 

They had to go to work early in the morn- 
ing and leave Molly alone. They had lived 
in the country, and it was very hard for the 
child to be shut up in one room all day, with 
no one to play with, and only back windows 
to look out of. 

Once or twice Molly had left the room and 
wandered into the street, and the sisters were 
so afraid she would be lost that finally they 


46 KRISTY’S RAINY DAY PICNIC 

locked the door and took away the key so that 
she could not get out. 

Playing all alone with her dolls became 
very tiresome after a while, and looking out 
of the window was not very exciting ; there was 
nothing to be seen but back yards of stores 
where nothing ever happened. 

Now Molly noticed that the next building, 
which was lower than the one they were in, 
was a little deeper than theirs, and stuck out 
a foot or so beyond it. One of their windows 
was quite near this roof which was flat, and 
Molly often looked longingly at it, wishing 
she could get out upon it and be out of 
doors. 

One day when she was very tired and warm, 
she stood at the window looking at the tempt- 
ing roof so near, when suddenly the thought 
came to her that she could almost step from 
the window on to it. This was an enticing 
thought, and without thinking of the danger 
of falling, or of anything except the longing 
to get out, she pushed the window as high as 
it would go, climbed up on the sill, and hold- 


FINDING THE ROOF 


47 


ing fast to the casing inside, thrust one foot 
carefully out. Oh, joy ! she touched the roof, 
and with one fearful step was safely on it, 
though her heart beat a little hard. 

The sun shone brightly, and she was al- 
most too happy to look about to see her new 
possessions. The roof was flat, as large as a 
big room ; on one side was a tall brick chim- 
ney and in the middle a queer-looking struc- 
ture which she at once went over to examine. 
It was shaped like a tent, and all made of 
windows which she could not see through be- 
cause they were of colored glass. 

Both sides of this roof-room were tall, brick 
walls of neighboring buildings, and in the front 
a lower one, which was, however, too high for 
her to look over. Only the back was open. 

It was not a very attractive place, but to 
Molly it was a new world. She was a strange 
child always, full of imagination, and she at 
once decided that the brick chimney was a 
castle in which some children were shut up, 
and the window tent looked into a garden 
where they were allowed to play. 


48 


KRISTY’S RAINY DAY PICNIC 


She resolved to bring her doll out here, and 
she thought she should never be lonely again 
if she could only find a peep-hole in that 
glass roof and look down into the garden ; so 
she was always looking for one. 

After that day she spent all her time — 
when it did not rain — on the delightful roof. 
She carried her treasures out, her whole fam- 
ily of dolls with their furniture and things, 
her sisters keeping her well supplied so that 
she should not be lonely. She found a small 
box which she could leave out there, and made 
her a nice seat, and soon she began to get 
rosy and happy again, to the great delight of 
her sisters. 

Every day, as soon as she was left alone, 
she pushed up the window, took that fearful 
step on which, if she had slipped or lost her 
hold, she would have been dashed to pieces 
on the pavement below, and then spent the 
day happily with her dolls and toys, making 
stories for herself. 

It was not long before she found the peep- 
hole she was always looking for into the room 


NO PEEP-HOLE 


49 


under the glass tent — for it was a room, and 
not a garden, as she hoped. This peep-hole 
was a small three-cornered piece of clear glass 
among the colored, and through it she could 
see everything in the room below. 

The room was not particularly interesting, 
but she made up a story about it as she always 
did. It seemed to be a gentleman’s office, for 
an elderly gentleman nearly always sat at 
a table under the roof-window and had papers 
about him. 

To him came many callers ; sometimes other 
men, sometimes shop-boys, now and then 
a shop-girl on some errand, and once a week 
a charwoman who cleaned, and swept, and 
dusted, and piled the papers neatly up on the 
table. 

All this was of deepest interest to Molly, 
who passed hours every day looking into this 
room, her only outlook into the world, and 
making up stories about the people who came. 

Sometimes — not very often — there came 
a beautiful lady to the room, who had long 
talks with the old gentleman, and seemed to 


50 KRISTY’S RAINY DAY PICNIC 

be unhappy about something. She would cry, 
and appeared to be begging him to do some- 
thing which he never did, though he seemed 
to be sorry for her. Molly had made up 
a story about her: that she was the daughter 
of the old gentleman and wanted to go to 
live in the country where there were trees, and 
birds, and gardens, and her father always 
refused to let her, but kept her shut up in 
a big brick house in the city. 

One day while peering down into the room, 
Molly saw the beautiful lady, after much 
talk, take out of her bag a small leather 
case and open it. There was something very 
glittering inside, which flashed bright colors 
as she turned it. Molly was so interested that 
she could not take her eyes off her. After 
a while she gave it to the old gentleman, who 
unlocked a drawer in the table, put into it the 
case with its wonderful treasure, and then 
took from the same drawer a small bag, out 
of which he counted what Molly thought were 
bright, new pennies, such big pennies, too, as 
the pennies were at that time, so shining and 


HE ACTED STRANGELY 


51 


beautiful that Molly wished she had a hand- 
ful to play with. These he gathered up and 
gave to the lady who put them carefully into 
her bag and then went away. 

Now for many days the lady did not come 
again, and Molly saw only the errand-boys 
and occasionally a shop-girl, and the men who 
came to talk, and always the old gentleman, 
till one day something else happened. 

The old gentleman was away all day and 
the charwoman was cleaning the room. One 
or two persons came, apparently to see the old 
gentleman, and among the rest one of the 
shop-girls Molly had often seen there. She 
talked with the cleaning-woman a few min- 
utes, and then, the work being done, they 
went out together. 

While Molly still looked, hoping they would 
come back, she saw a boy steal in very quietly. 
She knew him for one she had often seen there ; 
he seemed to belong to the store below. But 
he acted very strangely. He looked all around 
the room carefully, opened a door at the back, 
then locked the door he had come in at. 


52 KRISTY’S RAINY DAY PICNIC 

Then he went to the table — all the time 
listening and acting as if afraid. He acted so 
strangely that Molly was so much interested 
she could n’t look away. She wondered what 
he was going to do. She soon saw, for he 
took from his pocket a bunch of keys and be- 
gan trying them in the drawer of the table. 

He tried several, and at last found one 
that fitted and he pulled the drawer open. 
He tumbled over the things in the drawer, 
took out the little bag which had held the 
bright pennies, put it in his pocket, and then 
pulled out the small leather case Molly re- 
membered so well, and she saw — as he 
opened it — the same flashing colors she had 
seen before. This he hastily closed and 
slipped into another pocket. Then snatching 
his keys, he hurried out of the room, leaving 
the drawer open, but shutting the door very 
quietly. 

Meanwhile Molly was breathless with ex- 
citement over this new mystery and could 
hardly tear herself away from her peep-hole, 
hoping always to see what would happen next. 


THE GIRL ARRESTED 


53 


She soon saw unusual things. The next 
day policemen came to the room, examined 
the drawer carefully, looked at doors and win- 
dows, as if seeking something. The old gen- 
tleman seemed distressed, and the lady came 
and cried and wrung her hands ; plainly 
there was something very serious the mat- 
ter. 

One evening — not long after this — she 
heard her sisters talking about a mysterious 
robbery that had taken place in the store. 
The proprietors of the store had lost money 
and a valuable piece of diamond jewelry, and 
one of the shop-girls had been arrested. She 
was the only one who had been in the room 
that day, it was said by the charwoman who 
was first suspected. The sisters were very in- 
dignant over the arrest ; they did not believe 
the girl was guilty. 

While listening to this story, Molly under- 
stood that her show-room was the private of- 
fice of the old gentleman and that she knew 
who had stolen the diamonds. But if she 
told, it would reveal the secret of her play- 


54 KRISTY’S RAINY DAY PICNIC 

room, and she knew her sisters would never 
let her go there again. 

The lonely child felt that she could not 
give up her only pleasure ; so she sat listen- 
ing but saying nothing, till one of her sisters 
told about the poor shop-girl, how she was in 
great distress,, and her mother, who was al- 
most helpless, had come to the store to plead 
with the old gentleman. 

This was too much for kind-hearted Molly, 
and on one of her sisters saying she did not 
believe the girl stole it, Molly exclaimed, be- 
fore she thought : — - 

“ She did n’t ! the shop-boy took it ! ” 

“ How do you know ? ” demanded her sis- 
ter in amazement. 

“I saw him; I know all about it,” said 
Molly excitedly. 

“ You saw it ? ” said her sister. “ What do 
you mean ? How could you see it ? ” 

Surprised as they were, Molly was a truth- 
ful child, and she was so earnest that her sis- 
ters could not doubt she did know something, 
though they could not imagine how. A little 


THE SECRET OUT 


55 


questioning, however, brought the facts to 
light, and Molly’s long-treasured secret was 
out. She showed her sisters how she got on 
to the roof, and they were forced to believe 
her. 

After talking it over, they decided it was 
too serious a matter for them to manage, and 
the next morning, asking to see the store 
manager, they quietly told him Molly’s story. 

He poohed at it, said it was impossible ; 
but upon their insisting, he at last brought 
them before the old gentleman. 

He was struck with their straightforward 
story, and impossible as it seemed, was re- 
solved to test it. Molly was sent for and told 
so straight a story of the beautiful lady and 
the shining jewel, of the bright pennies he 
gave her, and of other things she had seen, 
that a visit was made to the attic room. 

Molly took her fearful step on to the roof 
in an easy way that showed it was perfectly 
familiar, followed by the manager, who was a 
slight man. She showed him the peep-hole 
and how she could see everything in the 


56 


KRISTY’S RAINY DAY PICNIC 


room below, and he returned in almost 
speechless amazement. 

The next thing was to pick out the boy 
who had done it, and this Molly had to do, 
though she would not have consented except 
for her pity for the shop-girl now shut up in 
jail. 

All the boys of the store were made to 
stand up in line, and Molly was told to pick 
out the boy. It did not need her word, how- 
ever, for the guilty boy turned red and white, 
and at last fell at the feet of the old gentle- 
man and confessed all. 

That was a time of triumph for the sisters : 
first they received — to their amazement — 
the five hundred .dollars reward which had 
been offered, and then they were given better 
places in the store at much higher wages, and 
Molly was adopted by the beautiful lady 
whose valuable jewels she had been the means 
of recovering. 

The sisters hated to give Molly up, but see- 
ing the great benefit it would be for her, they 
consented. With the money they bought a 


THE BARGAIN 


57 


tiny home in a country suburb, and came 
every day to their work on the cars. There 
they live nicely now, and Molly often goes to 
see them. They have been advanced to fine 
positions and are prosperous and happy. 

When the story was ended, Kristy drew a 
long sigh. “ That was splendid ! was it true ? 
How I should like to see Molly's play-room." 

“Yes, it is true; but you can never see 
it," said her mother, “ for the next year the 
store was built up a story or two higher, and 
the play-house on the roof was no more." 

“ There 's the lunch bell," said Kristy, 
“ will you tell me some more after lunch ? " 

“Dear me, Kristy," said her mother, with 
a sigh, “ you are certainly incorrigible ; don't 
you ever get tired of stories?" 

“ Never ! " said Kristy emphatically ; “ I 
could listen to stories all day and all night 
too, I guess." 

Mrs. Crawford hesitated ; Kristy went on. 

“Won't you tell me stories as long as it 
rains ? " 


58 KRISTY’S RAINY DAY PICNIC 

“Well, yes,” began Mrs. Crawford, who 
had noted signs of clearing. But Kristy 
interrupted, shouting, “ It ? s a bargain ! it ’s 
a bargain ! you said yes ! Now let ’s go to 
lunch ; I’m in a hurry to begin the next 
story.” 

“Well,” said Mrs. Crawford, when they 
returned to the sitting-room after lunch, “ if 
I ’m to tell stories all day, you certainly should 
do something, too ; it is n’t fair for me to do 
all the work.” 

“I will,” said Kristy laughing; “I’ll listen.” 

“ Do you call that work ? ” asked her mother. 

“N-o!” said Kristy, thinking a moment. 
“Well, I ’ll tell you ! I ’ll get my knitting; ” 
and she ran out of the room and in a minute 
or two came back with some wool and needles 
with a very little strip of knitting, all done 
up in a clean towel. She had set out to knit 
a carriage-blanket for a baby she was fond 
of, but she found it slow work, for as soon as 
she became interested in anything else the 
knitting was forgotten. Now she took her 
seat in a low chair and began to knit. “Now 


POOR LITTLE MAMMA 


59 


begin/’ she said, as her mother took up her 
sewing. 

“ Did I ever tell you, Kristy, how I learned 
to knit ? ” 9 

“ No,” said Kristy ; “ I suppose your mother 
taught you.” 

“ She did not. I was taught by my grand- 
mother, my father’s mother, one winter that 
I spent with her, when my mother was ill.” 

“ Was n’t your grandmother very queer ? ” 
asked Kristy. “ Did she look like that picture 
in your room ? ” 

“ Yes ; that ’s a good likeness, but she 
was n’t exactly queer. She was a very fine wo- 
man, but she had decided notions about the way 
girls should be brought up, and she thought 
my mother was too easy. So when she had 
the whole care of me, she set herself to give 
me some good, wholesome training.” 

“ Poor little mamma ! ” said Kristy. “ What 
did she do? It seems so funny to think of 
you as a little girl being trained ! ” 

“Well, it was not at all funny, I assure 
you. I thought I was terribly abused, and 


60 


KRISTY’S RAINY DAY PICNIC 


I used to make plans to run away some night 
and go home. But every night I was so 
sleepy that I put it off till another night ; and 
indeed I had a bit of common sense left, and 
realized that I had no money and did not 
know the way home, and could n’t walk so far 
anyway ; though I did run away once ” — 

“ Oh, tell me about that ” — cried Kristy, 
laughing; “you run away! how funny! tell 
me!” 

“ I’ll tell you the story of my naughty run- 
away, but first I must tell you about my grand- 
mother and why I wanted to run away.” 


CHAPTER VI 


HOW MAMMA RAN AWAY 

My mother was not a very strong woman, while 
I was a healthy strong girl, so when she tried 
to teach me to knit and sew, I always managed 
to get out of it, and she was too weak to insist. 
So when I went to my grandmother's to spend 
the winter, and her first question was, “ What 
sewing have you on hand now ? " I was struck 
with horror. 

“ Why none — I stammered, and seeing 
the look of surprise in her face, I hastened to 
add, “I never have any on hand." 

“Do you never sew?" she asked, in her 
sternest tone. 

“Why — not very often," I faltered. “I 
don’t like to sew." 

“ Hm ! ” said my grandmother, “ I shall 
hawe to teach you then ; I am surprised ! ten 
years old and not know how to sew ! At your 


62 


KRISTY’S RAINY DAY PICNIC 


age, y° ar Aunt Emily was almost an expert 
needlewoman; she could do overhand, hem- 
ming, felling, backstitching, hemstitching, 
running, catstitching, buttonholes, and a little 
embroidery.” 

I was aghast. Had I got to learn all these 
mysteries of the needle ! My grandmother 
went on. 

a We ’ll begin at the beginning then ; I ’ll 
prepare some patchwork for you.” 

My heart sank ; patchwork was the thing 
my mother had tried to have me do, and I 
hated it. I remember now some mussed up, 
dirty-looking blocks, stuffed behind a bureau 
at home — to have them lost. . 

True to her word, my grandmother brought 
out her “ piece-bag ” and selected a great pile 
of hits of colored calico and new white cotton 
cloth, which she cut into neat blocks about 
four inches square, and piled up on the table, 
the white pieces by themselves, the pink and 
the blue in separate piles, and the gray and 
dull colored also by themselves. 

Then taking needle and thread, she began 


A TERRIBLE TASK 


63 


basting them for sewing, a white and col- 
ored one together. Oh, what a pile there 
was of basted pieces, ready for me to learn 
overhand, or “ over ’n over ” as I used to 
call it. I thought there was enough for a 
quilt. Should I have to sew it all? I was 
in despair. But my grandmother was much 
pleased with the show. “ There ! ” she said, 
“when you finish those, I shall prepare some 
more, and if you are industrious, you will 
have enough for a quilt by spring, and then 
I will have a quilting and you can take home 
to your mother a sample of the work you 
have done.” 

Somehow this picture did not allure nie. I 
thought only of the weary, weary hours of 
sewing I should have to do. 

Well, that very day she sent to the store 
and had a thimble bought for me, and that 
afternoon after school I began my quilt under 
her eye. I must have a regular “stint,” she 
said, and it was to be — at first — one of those 
dreadful blocks, at least four inches of over- 
and-over stitches! This was to be done the 


64 


KRISTY’S RAINY DAY PICNIC 


first thing after school, before I could go out 
to play. 

I won’t tell you of the tears I shed over 
those blocks, of the bad stitches I had to pick 
out and do over, of the many times I had to 
go and wash my hands because of dirty thread. 
I thought my grandmother the most cruel 
taskmaster in the world. 

And the patchwork was not all. When she 
found that I could not even knit, and that I 
was accustomed at home to read all the long 
winter evenings before my bedtime at eight, 
she said at once that so much reading was not 
good for me, and I must have some knitting. 
So she had some red yarn bought, and some 
steel needles, and “ set up ” a stocking big 
enough for my little brother, cheering me, 
as she thought, by telling me that if I paid 
proper attention to it, I could knit a pair of 
stockings for him before spring. My evening 
u stint ” was six times around the stocking- 
leg. 

These two tasks, which my grandmother 
never failed to exact from me, made life a bur- 


MAMMA WAS NAUGHTY 65 

den to me. How I hated them ! how naughty I 
was! How I used to break my needles and 
lose my spool of thread, and ravel my knitting 
to make a diversion in the dreary round, for- 
getting that all these hindrances only pro- 
longed my hours of labor, for every stitch of 
my task must be finished before she would re- 
lease me. 

I brooded over my hardships till I became 
really desperate, and so was in a fit state to 
agree to a plan proposed by a schoolmate — 
to run away. She too had troubles at home ; 
her mother made her help in the housework ; 
she had to wash dishes when she wanted to 
play out of doors. 

W e compared notes and made up our minds 
that we were persecuted and abused, and we 
would n’t stand it any longer. W e were not 
quite so silly as to think of a serious runaway, 
but we wanted to get rid of our tasks for one 
day at least ; and besides it was spring now and 
the woods were full of flowers, which I loved, 
next to books, best of anything in the world. 

So after school one day we started for the 


66 KRISTY’S RAINY DAY PICNIC 

woods instead of for home. We felt very 
brave and grown-up when we turned into the 
path that led into the woods, but before the 
afternoon was over our feelings changed, and 
we began to feel very wicked, and to dread 
going home. I thought of my grandmother’s 
sharp eyes fixed on me, and dreaded what 
punishment she might inflict, for I knew she 
believed in punishments that terrified me, such 
as doubling my daily task, shutting up in a 
dark closet, and even, I feared, the rod. 

Moreover my fault was made worse by the 
fact that I had lost my schoolbooks which I 
was taking home for the study-hour in the 
morning. I had laid them down on a log and 
was unable to find them again, though we 
spent hours — it seemed to me — in looking 
for them. 

We did not enjoy our freedom after all, for 
the sense of guilt and dread took all the 
pleasure out of everything; besides, we had 
one great fright. We heard some great ani- 
mal rustling among the bushes and were sure 
it was a bear. We turned and fled, running 


GRANDMOTHER’S HORROR 


67 


as hard as we could, looking fearfully back to 
see if we were pursued, stumbling over logs, 
and tearing our clothes on bushes. I lost one 
shoe in a muddy place, and Jenny lost her 
sunbonnet. 

We picked flowers, and when the frail things 
wilted in our hot hands, we threw them away, 
and not till it began to grow dark did we get 
up courage to turn towards the village. 

The piece of woods was not large, and we did 
not really get lost, and before it was quite 
dark, two very tired, shamefaced girls, with 
torn dresses and generally disreputable looks, 
stole into the back doors of their respective 
homes. 

I never knew what happened to Jenny — 
she never would tell me ; but I met the stern 
face of my grandmother the moment I stepped 
into the kitchen. I had tried to slip in and 
go to my room to wash and brush myself, 
and try to mend my dress before she saw 
me, but the moment I entered, her eye was 
upon me. 

After one look of utter horror, she seized 


68 


KRISTY’S RAINY DAY PICNIC 


me by the shoulders, and walked me into the 
sitting-room, where the family were gathered, 
— my uncle who lived with my grandmother, 
and my three cousins, all older, and not play- 
mates for me. 

She left me standing in the middle of the 
room, while all eyes were turned in reproof 
upon me. 

“ There ! ” said my grandmother, in her 
most severe voice, “ there ’s the child who runs 
away ! Look at her.” 

Then my uncle began to question me. 
Where had I been ? where was my shoe ? 
how did I tear my dress? what did I do it 
for? what did I think I deserved? and various 
other questions. Before long, I was weeping 
bitterly, and feeling that imprisonment for life 
would be a fitting punishment for my crimes. 

Then came my sentence in the stern voice of 
my grandmother : “ I think a suitable punish- 
ment for a naughty girl will be to go to bed 
without her supper.” This was assented to 
by my uncle, and I was sent off in disgrace, 
to go to bed. 


TOO HUNGRY TO SLEEP 


69 


Now I had a healthy young appetite, and 
the long tramp had made me very hungry, so 
that the punishment — though very mild for 
my offense — seemed to me almost worse than 
anything. 

I was tired enough, however, to fall asleep, 
but after some hours I awoke, ravenous with 
hunger. All was still in the house, and I 
knew the family must have gone to bed. A 
long time I lay tossing and tumbling and get- 
ting more restless and hungry every minute. 

At last I could stand it no longer, and I 
crept out of bed and carefully opened the 
door — my room was off the kitchen. The 
last flickering remains of the fire on the 
hearth made it light enough to see my way 
about. 

Softly I crept to the pantry, hoping to find 
something left from supper; but my grand- 
mother’s maid was well trained, and I found 
nothing ; the cookie jar, too, was empty, for to- 
morrow was haking-day. I was about turning 
back in despair when my eyes fell on a row 
of milk pans, which I knew were full of milk. 


70 KRISTY’S RAINY DAY PICNIC 


The shelf was too high for me to reach 
comfortably, but I thought I could draw a 
pan down enough to drink a little from it, and 
not disturb anything. So I raised myself on 
tiptoe and carefully drew it towards me. 

You can guess what happened; and if I 
had known more I should have expected it. 
As soon as I got the pan over the edge the milk 
swayed towards me, the pan escaped from 
my hands, and fell with terrific clatter on the 
floor, deluging me with milk from head to foot. 

Terrified out of my wits, I fled to my room, 
jumped into bed, covered my head with the 
bedclothes, and lay there panting. There was 
a moment’s silence, and then my grandmother’s 
voice, — 

“What was that? What has happened?” 
and my uncle’s answer, “ I ’ll bring a light and 
see.” 

Alas ! a light revealed wet milk tracks across 
the kitchen, leading to my room. In a minute 
it was opened by my grandmother, who drew 
me out into the kitchen, and stood me up on 
the hearth — uttering not a word. 


HALF STARVED 


71 


I was utterly crushed ; I expected I knew 
not what, but something more than I could 
guess, and to my uncle’s “ Why did you do it, 
child ? ” I could only gasp out with bursts of 
frantic tears, “ I was so hungry ! ” 

My grandmother, still silent, hastened to get 
me dry clothes, then left me standing on the 
warm hearth, sobbing violently, and feeling 
more and more guilty, as I saw what trouble I 
had made. 

Then she got clean sheets and made up my 
bed afresh. While she was doing this, my uncle 
went in and spoke to her very low. But I 
think I must have heard or guessed that he 
said my sentence had been too severe, and I 
was not so much to blame for trying to get a 
simple drink of milk, for when my grand- 
mother came out, went into the pantry and 
brought me a slice of bread and butter, I was 
not surprised, but fell upon it like a half-starved 
creature. 

Then I was sent to bed again, and it being 
nearly morning, the maid was called up, and I 
heard her scrubbing the floor and reducing the 


72 KRISTY’S RAINY DAY PICNIC 

kitchen to its usual condition of shining neat- 
ness. 

I never tried to run away again ; my grand- 
mother never scolded me, but my shame as I 
put on the new shoes and took the new school- 
books was punishment enough. I tried 
harder after that to please my grandmother, 
and really learned a good deal of sewing, and 
could knit beautifully before I went home. 

“ Poor little mamma ! ” said Kristy, as her 
mother paused, “ you did n’t have much fun, 
did you ? I can just fancy how you looked, 
all dripping with milk. Tell me another.” 

“ W ell, I ’ll tell you something that hap- 
pened to Jenny soon after that. Jenny had 
often told me about an old aunt she had, 
whom she and her two cousins used to go to 
see very often. She wanted me to go with her 
sometimes, but I did n’t know her aunt, and I 
was shy, and did n’t like to visit strangers, 
so I never went.” 


CHAPTER VII 


HOW AUNT BETTY MADE HER CHOICE 

One morning three cousins were walking 
slowly down the village street towards the 
house of their Aunt Betty, where they had 
been invited to dine. They were eager and 
excited, for there was something peculiar 
about the invitation, though none but Jenny 
knew exactly what it was. Jenny began : — 
“ Well, I do wonder who ’ll get it ! ” 

“ Get what ? ” asked Grace. 

“Why, don’t you know? Didn’t your 
mother tell you?” said Jenny, in surprise. 
“ Aunt Betty did n’t mean to have us know, 
but mamma told me.” 

“ I don’t know what you mean,” said 
Grace. 

“ Nor I,” put in Ruth. 

“Why,” said Jenny eagerly, “you know 
Aunt Betty has not been so well lately, and 


74 KRISTY’S RAINY DAY PICNIC 

her doctor says she must have some one to 
live with her besides old Sam, and she ’s made 
up her mind — mamma says — to take one of 
us three and give her all the advantages she 
can while she lives, and leave her something 
when she dies. Mamma says, probably her 
whole fortune, or at any rate a big share. It ’s 
a grand chance ! I do hope she ’ll take me ! ” 

“ But,” said Ruth, “ I don’t understand ; 
why should she leave everything to one, after 
spending so much on her ? ” 

“ Oh, to make up to her for giving up so 
much,” said Jenny. “ She ’s so cranky, you 
know ! ” 

“ It won’t be much fun to live with her,” 
said Grace thoughtfully. “ But think of the 
advantages ! I ’d have all the music lessons I 
want, and I ’m sure she ’d let me go to con- 
certs and operas. Oh ! Oh ! ” 

“ I ’m not so sure of that,” said Jenny. 
u She would n’t want you going out much ; 
for my part I ’d coax her to travel ; I ’d love 
to go all over the world — and I’m just dy- 
ing to go to Europe, anyway.” 


BLUNDERING RUTH 75 

u What would you choose, Ruth ? ” asked 
Grace. 

“I don’t know,” answered Ruth slowly, 
“ and it ’s no use to wish, for of course she 
won’t choose me. I don’t think she ever 
cared much for me, and I do make such stu- 
pid blunders. It seems as if I was bound to 
break something or knock over something, or 
do something she particularly dislikes every 
time I go there. You know the last time I 
went there I stumbled over a stool and fell 
flat on the floor, making her nearly jump out 
of her skin — as she said — and getting a 
big, horrid-looking bump on my forehead.” 

The girls laughed. “ You do seem to be 
awfully unlucky, Ruth,” said Jenny magnani- 
mously, “ and I guess the choice will be one 
of us two.” 

u Well, here we are ! ” said Grace, in a low 
tone, as they reached the gate of the pretty 
cottage where Aunt Betty lived. “ Now for it ! 
Put on your best manners, Ruthie, and try 
not to upset the old lady’s nerves, whatever 
you do ! ” 


76 KRISTY’S RAINY DAY PICNIC 

“ I shall be sure to do it,” said Ruth sadly, 
“ I ’m so awkward.” 

Grace and Jenny laughed, not displeased 
with the thought that the choice would be 
only between two. 

These three girls, so eager to leave their par- 
ents and live with Aunt Betty, had comfort- 
able homes, all of them ; but in each case there 
were brothers and sisters and a family purse 
not full enough to gratify all their desires. 
Aunt Betty had always been ready to help 
them out of any difficulty ; to give a new dress 
or a new hat when need became imperative, or 
a little journey when school work had tired 
them. So she had come to be the source of 
many of their comforts and all their luxuries. 
To live with Aunt Betty, so near their own 
homes that they would scarcely be separated 
from them, seemed to them the greatest hap- 
piness they could hope for. 

Old Sam, the colored servant who had lived 
with Miss Betty, as he called her, since she 
was a young woman, and was devoted to her, 
opened the door for them, a broad grin on 
his comely face. 


IN SATIN AND LACE 


77 


u Miss Betty, she ’s a-lookin’ fur you-all,” 
he said ; u you ’re to take off your things in the 
hall.” 

“ Why ! Can’t we go into the bedroom as 
usual ? ” asked Grace, who liked a mirror and 
a brush to make sure that every curl was in 
place. 

“ No, Miss Grace,” said Sam, “ y’r aunt 
said fur you to take ’em off here.” 

Rather sulkily, Grace did as she was bid, and 
then, bethinking herself of the importance of 
the occasion, she called up her usual smile, and 
the three entered the sitting-room where their 
aunt awaited them. 

Aunt Betty was a pleasant-faced lady of 
perhaps sixty years, but though rather infirm so 
that she walked with a cane, she was bright 
and cheery-looking. She was dressed in her 
usual thick black satin gown and lace mitts, 
with a fine lace kerchief around her neck and 
crossed on her breast, and a string of fine gold 
beads around her throat. 

The few moments before Sam opened the 
door of the dining-room, clad in snowy apron 


78 KRISTY’S RAINY DAY PICNIC 

and white gloves, and announced in his 
most dignified butler’s manner, u Dinner is 
served ! ” were passed by Aunt Betty in asking 
about the three families of her guests, and soon 
all were seated at the pretty round table, set 
out with the very best old china, of which 
every piece was more precious than gold, with 
exquisite cut glass and abundance of silver. 
This was an unusual honor, and the girls were 
surprised. 

“ You see, nieces,” said Aunt Betty, “this 
is a special occasion, and I give you my very 
best.” 

“ This china ’s almost too lovely to use,” 
said Grace warmly. “ I don’t know as I shall 
dare to touch it ! ” 

“ It ’s all beautiful ! ” said Jenny eagerly ; 
“ I do love to eat off dainty dishes. Did Sam 
arrange the table ? ” 

“ Yes,” said Aunt Betty, “ Sam did every- 
thing.” 

“Well, he’s just a wonder!” said Grace. 
“ I wish we could ever have a table like this 
in our house — but then we have n’t any 


WHAT WAS THE MATTER 79 

such things to put on it,” she added, with a 
sigh. 

“ I only hope,” said Ruth ruefully, “ that I 
shall not break anything. Auntie, you ought to 
have set me in a corner by myself with kitchen 
dishes to use ; I deserve it for my clumsiness.” 

“Well, niece!” said Aunt Betty, with a 
rather anxious look, 66 1 hope you ’ll be on your 
good behavior to-day, for I value every piece 
above gold.” 

“I know you do,” said Ruth anxiously, 
“ and that ’s what scares me.” 

While they were talking, Sam had served 
each one with a plate on which lay a small slice 
of fish, browned to perfection and temptingly 
hot. Each girl took a small taste, and then 
began picking at the food daintily with her 
fork, but not eating. Grace raised her napkin 
to her lips, and surreptitiously removed from 
her mouth the morsel she had taken. Jenny 
heroically swallowed, and then hastily drank 
from her glass, while Ruth quietly took the 
morsel from her mouth, deposited it on her 
plate, and took no more. 


80 


KRISTY’S RAINY DAY PICNIC 


Aunt Betty apparently did not observe all 
this, but in a moment, seeing that they were 
toying with the food on their plates, asked 
quietly, “ What ’s the matter ? Why do you 
not eat? ” 

“ I don’t care much for fish,” said Grace, 
in her most polite manner, and, “ I beg your 
pardon, aunt,” said Jenny, in apparent con- 
fusion, “ but I must confess to having had 
some candy this morning, and I ’in afraid I 
have n’t much appetite ; the fish is fine, I ’m 
sure.” 

“ And you, Ruth ? ” asked her aunt. 

Ruth hesitated. 

“ I want the truth, niece,” Aunt Betty went 
on ; “ you know I always want the honest 
truth.” 

“Indeed, Aunt Betty,” began Grace, “I ’m 
sure ” — She paused, and Jenny broke in, 
“ I ’m awfully sorry, Aunt Betty ” — But 
Ruth, while a deep blush rose to her honest 
face, said in a low tone, “ Auntie — I’m sorry 
to have to tell you — but I think the fish had 
been kept a little too long.” 


SAM WAS GRINNING 


81 


Jenny and Grace looked at her in amaze- 
ment, expecting some burst of indignation 
from Aunt Betty. 

But she only said quietly, though a queer 
look stole over her face, “ Then we ’ll have 
it removed,” touching a bell as she spoke. 

Sam appeared instantly, his broad, black 
face shining, and a grin he could not wholly 
repress displaying his white teeth. 

In a moment he removed the fish and re- 
placed it with the next course, which was tur- 
key, roasted in Sam’s superb way, which no one 
in the village could equal. This was all right, 
and received full justice from the youthful 
appetites, even Jenny forgetting that candy 
had spoiled hers. 

After this the dinner progressed smoothly 
till ice cream was served with dessert. Again 
something seemed to be out of joint. Aunt 
Betty noticed that her young guests did not 
show their usual fondness for this dish. Again 
she asked, “ Is anything wrong with the 
cream?” and again she was answered with 
bland apologies, though some confusion. 


82 KRISTY’S RAINY DAY PICNIC 

“I’ve eaten so much,” said Grace, with a 
sigh. 

“It’s so cold it makes me shiver,” said 
Jenny, laying down her spoon. 

“ And what ails you, Ruth ? ” asked Aunt 
Betty, with a grave look on her face. 

“I’m afraid” — said Ruth timidly, “I’m 
really afraid Sam spilled some salt in it, 
auntie;” and so embarrassed was she at being 
obliged to say what she was sure would be a 
mortal offense, that in her confusion she 
knocked a delicate glass off the table, and it 
was shattered to pieces on the floor. 

“ Oh, dear ! ” she cried, “ I ’ve done it now ! 
Auntie, you ’ll never forgive me ! I don’t 
know what ails me when I get among your 
precious things.” 

“ I know,” said her aunt grimly. “ I be- 
lieve you are a little afraid of me, my dear, 
and that makes you awkward. Never mind 
the glass,” as Ruth was picking up the pieces, 
tears rolling down her face, “ that can be re- 
placed ; it is only the china that is precious ; 
don’t cry, child.” 


A GREAT SURPRISE 


83 


Rath tried to dry her tears, but she was 
really much grieved, and her cousins ex- 
changed a look which said plainly as words, 
“ That settles her chance ! ” 

If Aunt Betty saw the look, she did not 
mention it, but she soon made the move to 
leave the table, and all gladly followed her 
into the other room. 

“ Nieces,” she said, before they had seated 
themselves, u did you wonder why I had you 
leave your wraps in the hall today ? ” 

“ It was, of course, unusual,” said Grace, 
“ for we have always gone into the bedroom, 
but it did not matter in the least.” 

“It did not make any difference,” mur- 
mured Jenny. 

“ I will show you what I have been doing 
to the bedroom,” said Aunt Betty, throwing 
open the door to that room. 

It had been entirely transformed. In place 
of the old-fashioned set of furniture, the gor- 
geous flowered carpet, the dark walls and 
thick curtains that had been in the room ever 
since they could remember, were light-tinted 


84 KRISTY’S RAINY DAY PICNIC 

walls, hard wood floors, with several rugs, a 
modern light set of furniture, pictures on the 
walls, lace curtains at the windows, all the lat- 
est style and very elegant. One thing only 
made a discord : over the dainty bed was 
spread a gay-colored cover. It disfigured the 
whole effect, but the girls apparently saw 
nothing out of the way. 

“ Oh, how lovely ! ” cried Jenny. 

“ It ’s so dainty and sweet ! ” put in Grace. 
u Auntie, you have exquisite taste.” 

Ruth looked her appreciation till her 
glance fell upon the bedspread; then she 
hesitated. 

“ Nieces, do you like it? Could you sug- 
gest any change in it ? ” 

“ It is simply perfect as it is,” said Grace 
warmly, while not to be outdone by Grace, 
Jenny added with a sigh, “ Nothing could 
improve it, I ’m sure.” 

Aunt Betty looked at Ruth, who was covered 
with confusion, but she stammered, “ I seem to 
be the only one to find fault to-day, but indeed, 
auntie — if you want my honest opinion ” — 


THE UGLY COUNTERPANE 


85 


“ I do,” said Aunt Betty, with a smile. 

“ W ell then — could n’t you — couldn’t 
you put on a white spread instead of that gay 
one ? That does n’t seem to suit the beautiful 
room.” 

Aunt Betty smiled again. “Take it off, 
then, and let ’s see ! ” 

Ruth pulled off the spread, and there un- 
der it was a dainty lace one as exquisite as the 
rest of the room. 

“I guess we’ll keep it off,” said Aunt 
Betty, “though Jenny and Grace seem to like 
it well enough ; it certainly is an improve- 
ment.” 

Aunt Betty ’s manner was so peculiar as she 
said this, that the two girls who had sacrificed 
truthfulness to please her, began to suspect 
that there was more in it than they had 
thought; they were both rather silent when 
they returned to the sitting-room and Aunt 
Betty began : — 

“ Nieces, I have a little plan to tell you about, 
though possibly you may have suspected it ” — 
with a sharp look at the two guilty ones. 


86 


KRISTY’S RAINY DAY PICNIC 


“ Perhaps you have heard that I have decided, 
by the advice of my physician, to take one 
of you to live with me — provided you and 
your parents are willing, of course. I shall 
ask a good deal of the one I select, but I shall 
try to make it up to her. I shall formally 
adopt her as my own, and, of course, make a 
distinction in her favor in my will. I shall ask 
a good deal of her time and attention ; but I 
shall not live forever, and when I am gone, 
she will be independent, and able to make her 
own life.” 

The three girls were breathless with atten- 
tion, and Aunt Betty went on. 

“ I want the one I shall choose to ponder 
these conditions well; there will be a few 
years — probably — of partial seclusion from 
society, and of devotion to her old auntie, and 
then freedom, with the consciousness of hav- 
ing made happy the declining years of one 
who buried the last of her own children many 
years ago.” 

She paused — but not a word was spoken 
— and in a moment she went on. 


ONE STOOD THE TEST 87 

“ I did not know how to choose between you, 
for you are all so sweet to me, so I made a 
plan to find out — with Sam’s help — a little 
about your characteristics. The virtue I prize 
almost above all others, is — truthfulness, hon- 
est, outspoken truth. The bad fish, the salted 
cream, and the odious spread were tests, and 
only one of you stood the test and spoke the 
honest truth. I am glad that one did, for other- 
wise I should not have found, in my own fam- 
ily, one I could adopt and depend upon.” 

She paused ; not a word was said. 

“ Ruth,” she began again, turning to that 
confused, and blushing, and utterly amazed 
girl, “ Ruth, will you come to live with me, 

take the place of a daughter, and occupy that 
o » 

room c 

“ You ask me?” cried Ruth, “ clumsy and 
awkward as I am ! I never dreamed you could 
want me ! ” 

“ I know you did not,” said Aunt Betty; 
“ but your habit of truthfulness is far more 
valuable to me than the deftest fingers or the 
most finished manners. Will you come ? ” 


88 KRISTY’S RAINY DAY PICNIC 

“ Oh, yes, indeed ! ” cried Ruth, falling on 
her knees and burying her face in Aunt Betty’s 
lap, while happy tears fell from her eyes, and 
Aunt Betty gently stroked her hair. 

“ W ell, well, ” said J enny, with a sigh, as 
the two girls walked slowly home, “ I always 
knew Aunt Betty was the crankiest woman in 
the world, and if Ruth was n’t so perfectly sin- 
cere I should almost think that she ” — 

She paused, and Grace broke in. 

“ Yes ; I’m perfectly sure Ruth is not 
capable of putting on ; besides, we always 
knew she could n’t deceive to save her life.” 

“ Hush,” said mamma, as Kristy was about 
to speak. “Here comes Mrs. Wilson. ” 

Mrs. Wilson, the next door neighbor, walked 
in, explaining that she had come in the rain 
because she was all alone in her house and 
was lonely, and seeing Mrs. Crawford sewing 
by the window, thought she would bring her 
work and join her. 

Mrs. Crawford welcomed her, hut Kristy 
was disturbed. “Mrs. Wilson,” she began, 


MRS. WILSON TO THE RESCUE 89 

“ don’t you think a person ought to keep her 
promise?” 

“Why, certainly,” said Mrs. Wilson. 

“ Kristy ! Kristy ! ” said her mother warn- 
ingly. 

“ I ’m just going to ask Mrs. Wilson,” said 
Kristy, with a twinkle in her eye, “if she 
does n’t think you ought to go on telling me 
stories, when you promised to do it as long as 
it rained. She likes to hear stories, too, I ’m 
sure.” 

Mrs. Wilson laughed. “ Of course I do, and 
I shall be delighted, I’m sure. Your mother 
must be a master hand at the business, for I 
never knew such a story -lover as you, Kristy.” 

“I’ve about told myself out,” said Mrs. 
Crawford. “ Kristy, I think you really ought 
to excuse me now.” 

“ How will it do if I tell you one to rest 
mamma?” asked Mrs. Wilson. “I happen to 
be much interested just now in a story that is 
still going on in town.” 

“ Do tell it ! ” said Kristy. “ I can get 
mamma to keep her promise this evening.” 


90 KRISTY’S RAINY DAY PICNIC 

Mrs. Wilson laughed, and first taking her 
sewing out of a bag she carried, she began : — 

“ It ’s about the Horae we see on the cars, 
going to the city.” 

“ Oh, yes ! where we always see girls in the 
yard as we go by ? ” said Kristy. 

“ Yes ; I ’ll tell you how it began.” 

Kristy settled herself more comfortably on 
the lounge, and the story began. 


CHAPTER VIII 


NORA’S GOOD LUCK 

It does not seem very good in the begin- 
ning — but you shall see. One cold winter 
night a man in the city came home crazy with 
drink. I will not tell you what he did to his 
trembling daughter who was all the family 
left, except one thing : he put her out of the 
house and told her never to come back. It 
was a very poor house, hardly any comforts in 
it, but it was the only home the child knew 
and she was twelve years old. When she was 
turned out of it, her only thought was to hide 
herself away where no one could find her. 

This was in the edge of the city, and she 
wandered about a little till she came to a new 
barn where there was an opening in the foun- 
dations big enough for her to crawl in. When 
she saw this, by the light of the street lamp, 
she crept into the hole and far back in one 


92 


KRISTY’S RAINY DAY PICNIC 


corner where she thought no one would ever 
find her — and there she lay. 

The house to which that barn belonged 
held two boys and a dog, and the next day, 
when the three were playing together, as they 
generally were, the dog began to act strangely. 
He smelled around that hole, then ran in, and 
barked and growled and seemed much excited. 

u I guess there ’s a cat in there,” said one of 
the boys, calling the dog out. He came, but 
in a minute rushed back, and barked more and 
seemed to be pulling at something. 

This aroused the curiosity of the boys, who 
got down by the opening and peered in. It 
was so dark that they could see nothing, but 
the dog refusing to come out, they went into 
the house and brought out a candle, and by 
the light of that, saw what looked like a bun- 
dle of rags, which, however, stirred a little as 
the dog tugged at it. 

Then the boys called to her to come out ; 
they threw sticks to see if she were alive ; they 
tried all ways they could think of, and at last 
they went away. But soon they came back and 


SHE WISHED TO DIE 93 

men with them. Nora, through half-shut eyes, 
could see them. She knew their blue coats 
and bright stars — they were policemen. 

They called, they coaxed, they commanded, 
but she did not move. They found a boy small 
enough to crawl under the barn, and he went 
in. He found that she was alive, but she would 
not speak. Never a wish or a hope crossed the 
child’s mind, except a wish to be let alone. 

At last the boy, by the directions of the 
policemen, pulled her towards the opening. 
She did not resist — she did not know how to 
resist ; her whole life had been a crushing 
submission to everything. 

Finally the men could reach her, and the 
poor, little, half-dead figure was brought to 
the light. 

u Poor soul ! ” said one of the men, almost 
tenderly. “ She ’s near dead with cold and 
hunger.” 

She could not walk. Kind though rough 
hands carried her to the station house, where 
a warm fire and a few spoonfuls of broth — 
hastily procured from a restaurant — brought 


94 KRISTY’S RAINY DAY PICNIC 

her wholly back to life, and she sat up in 
her chair and faced a row of pitying faces 
with all her young misery. 

Little by little her story was drawn from 
her. 

But what to do with her — that was the 
question. She was not an offender against the 
law, and this institution was not for the pro- 
tection of misfortune, but for the punishment 
of crime. They did the best they could. 
They fed her, made her a comfortable bed on 
a bench in the station house, and the next 
morning the whole story went into the papers. 

This story was read by a lady of wealth over 
her morning coffee. She had lately been read- 
ing an account of the poor in our large cities, 
and had begun to think it was her duty to do 
something to help. With more money than 
she could use, and not a relative in the world, 
there was no reason why she should not make 
at least one child happy, and educate it for a 
useful life. 

On reading the story of Nora, with the 
added statement that her father had been ar- 


THIS WAS HER CHANCE 


95 


rested and placed in a retreat where he would 
not soon get out, the thought struck her that 
here was her chance to make the experiment. 

After her breakfast, Miss Barnes ordered her 
carriage and went out. After driving about 
a little, she ordered her coachman to drive 
to the B — Street police station. He looked 
astonished, but of course obeyed, and in a 
short time, the dingy station house received 
an unusual visitor. 

The moment Miss Barnes entered the room, 
she saw the child, and knew she was the one 
she had come to see. As for Nora, she had 
never seen a beautiful, happy-looking woman, 
and she could not take her eyes off her face. 

Miss Barnes asked a few questions. Who 
was going to take her ? Who were her friends ? 
She learned that she had none, that her father 
had been arrested for vagrancy, and would be 
sent to the bridewell. 

“ Where is the child to go ? ” at last she 
asked. 

“ Indeed, ma’am, I don’t know, unless she 
goes into the streets,” said the policeman. 


96 KRISTY’S RAINY DAY PICNIC 

“ I ’ll take her/’ said Miss Barnes. 

“ It ’ll be a heavenly charity if you do, 
ma’am,” replied the man. 

Miss Barnes turned to the girl. 

“ Nora, will you go with me?” 

“ Yes’m,” gasped Nora, with hungry soul 
looking out of her eyes. 

“ Come, then,” said the lady shortly, lead- 
ing the way out. 

Thomas, holding the door of the carriage, 
was struck dumb with horror to see the ap- 
parition, but the timid little figure kept close 
to his mistress, and she wore such a look that 
the old servant dared not speak. 

“To a respectable bath house,” was Miss 
Barnes’s order. 

Thomas bowed, reached his seat somehow, 
and drove off. 

“ Not pretty, decidedly,” thought Miss 
Barnes, looking steadily at the wondering 
face opposite hers, “ but at least not coarse. 
Dress will improve her.” 

At the door of the bathing rooms, Thomas 
again threw open the carriage door. Miss 


MORE WONDERS 


97 


Barnes went in with Nora, gave her into the 
hands of the young woman in charge, with 
directions to have her thoroughly hathed and 
combed, and otherwise made ready for new 
clothes that she would brin<£. 

The amazed young woman marched off with 
the unresisting Nora, and Miss Barnes went 
shopping. She bought a complete outfit, from 
hat to shoes, and in an hour returned to the 
bath rooms, to find Nora waiting. She was 
soon dressed, much to her own surprise, for 
she hardly knew the names of half the articles 
she had on, and they were once more in the 
carriage. As for Thomas, he thought wonders 
would never cease that morning. 

As they rolled home, Miss Barnes said : — 
“ Now, Nora, you ’re to live with me and 
be my girl. You ’re not Nora Dennis ; you ’re 
Nora Barnes. You ’re to forget your old life — 
at least as much as you can,” she added, see- 
ing a shade come over Nora’s face. u And 
on no account are you to speak of it to the 
servants in my house. Do you understand ? ” 
“ Yes ’m,” said Nora. 


98 


KRISTY’S RAINY DAY PICNIC 


“ I shall try to make your life happy,” Miss 
Barnes went on a little more tenderly. “ I shall 
educate you ” — 

“ Please, ma’am, what ’s that ? ” asked Nora 
timidly. 

“ Teach you to read and write,” said Miss 
Barnes, wincing as she reflected how much 
there was to do in this neglected field. 

“ And, Nora,” she went on, “ I shall expect 
you to do as I tell you, and always to tell me 
the truth.” 

“ Shall I stay at your house and be warm ? ” 
asked Nora. 

“ Always, poor child, if you try to do right,” 
said Miss Barnes. 

u Are these things mine ? ” was the next 
question, looking lovingly at her pretty blue 
dress and cloak. 

“ Yes, and you shall have plenty of clothes, 
and always enough to eat, Nora. I hope you 
will never again be so miserable as I found 
you.” 

Nora could not comprehend what had come 
to her. She sat there as though stupefied, only 


HOUSEHOLD IN CONSTERNATION 99 


now and then whispering to herself, “ Always 
enough to eat, always warm.” 

“ Thomas/’ said Miss Barnes, in her most 
peremptory manner, as he held the carriage- 
door for her to alight, “I especially desire 
that you should not mention to any one where 
I got this child. I want to make a new life 
for her, and I trust to your honor to keep her 
secret.” 

Thomas touched his hat. 

“ Indeed, you may be sure of me, Miss 
Barnes.” 

And faithfully he kept his word, although 
all the household was in consternation when 
Miss Barnes installed the child as her adopted 
daughter, procured a governess for her, had a 
complete outfit of suitable clothes prepared, 
and, above all, took unwearied pains to teach 
her all the little things necessary to place her 
on a level with the girls she would meet when 
she went to school. 

Nora soon learned the ways and manners of 
a lady. She seemed to be instinctively delicate 
and lady-like. She was pretty, too, when her 

L. CF C, 


100 KRISTY’S RAINY DAY PICNIC 


face grew plump and the hungry look went 
out of her eyes. 

Miss Barnes, though on the sharp look- 
out, never discovered a vice in her. What- 
ever may have been her original faults, she 
seemed to have shed them with her rags, 
and the great gratitude she felt for her bene- 
factor overwhelmed everything. She seemed 
to live but to do something for Miss Barnes. 

To Nora, life was like a dream — a dream 
of heaven, at that. Always warm, always fed, 
always safe from roughness, surrounded by 
things so beautiful she scarcely dared to 
touch them ; every want attended to before it 
was felt. It was too wonderful to seem true. 
In dreams she would often return to the deso- 
late shanty, where the winds blew through the 
cracks, and the rickety old stove was no better 
fed than her mother and herself. 

Five years rolled away. Miss Barnes grew 
to love this child of poverty very much, and 
to be grieved that she showed none of the joy 
of youth. For Nora walked around as though 
in a dream. She was always anxious to please, 


NOT LIKE OTHER GIRLS 101 

always cheerful, but never gay. She was too 
subdued. She never spoke loud. She never 
slammed a door, she never laughed. 

66 Nora,” said she one day, after studying her 
face some time in silence, “ why are you not 
like other young girls ? ” 

66 Why am I unlike them ? ” asked Nora, 
looking up from the book she was reading. 

“ You ’re not a bit like any young girl I ever 
saw,” said Miss Barnes ; “ you ’re too sober, 
you never laugh and play.” 

“ I don’t know how to play,” said Nora, in 
a low tone ; u I never did.” 

u Poor child,” said Miss Barnes, “ you never 
had any childhood. I wanted to give you one, 
but you were too old when I took you. Why, 
you ’re a regular old woman.” 

“ Am I? ” said Nora, with a smile. 

“ I don’t know what I ’ll do to you,” Miss 
Barnes went on. “ I ’d like to make you over.” 

“I wish you could,” said Nora earnestly. 
“ I try to be like other girls, but somehow I 
can’t. I seem always to have a sort of weight 
on my heart.” 


102 KRISTY’S RAINY DAY PICNIC 

“ Nora, is n’t there something you would like 
that I have n’t done for you ? Have n’t you a 
wish?” 

“ Oh ! ” cried Nora, “ I can’t wish for any- 
thing, you make me too happy, hut ” — she 
hesitated, and tears began to fall fast — “ I 
can’t forget my old life, it comes back in ray 
dreams, it is always before me. I don’t want 
to tell you, but I must. I can’t help thinking 
about the many miserable girls, such as I was, 
living in horrid shanties, starved, frozen, 
beaten, wretched.” 

“ Then you have a wish ? ” said Miss Barnes 
softly. 

“ Oh, it seems so ungrateful ! ” Nora 
sobbed. “Such a poor return for the life you 
have given me ! I have tried to forget. I 
can’t tell what is right for me to do. I’m 
sorry I said anything.” 

“ No, Nora,” said Miss Barnes promptly. 
“ You should tell me all your wishes and 
feelings. If they are wrong, I can help you 
outgrow them ; if right ” — she hesitated — 
“why, I must help you.” 


THE SERVANTS’ HORROR 103 

Nora fell on her knees with the most im- 
pulsive movement Miss Barnes, had ever seen. 

“ Oh, I do believe you are an angel ! ” 

“Far from it, Nora,” said Miss Barnes smil- 
ing, “but I’ve set out to make you happy, and 
if I find whims and notions in your head, I 
suppose I’ll have to follow them out. But se- 
riously, dear child, I must say I have had a 
little uneasy feeling of responsibility in my 
heart ever since I’ve had you. And there ’s 
nothing to hinder my being as odd as I please, 
and now let me hear your plans.” 

“I have no plans. I have only longings to 
do something for them.” 

Well; plans grew fast as they always do 
when planners are anxious to do something. 
Long into the night they talked, and the very 
next day the work began. Nora captured a 
poor little girl who came to beg, and took her 
in to Miss Barnes, in spite of the horror of 
the servants. They found she had no parents, 
and decided to take her, and Nora went on 
to make her decent, with more pleasure than 
she had ever known. 


104 KRISTY’S RAINY DAY PICNIC 


So it went on; before the end of a month, 
Miss Barnes found herself more interested 
than she had been in anything. And Nora 
grew bright and happy as the months rolled 
by, and one after another wretched girl was 
gathered out of the streets and brought to a 
home. 

As soon as one girl was trained and fitted to 
take a place in some one’s kitchen, or sewing- 
room, or nursery, a dozen places opened to her. 
By telling a little of her story, Miss Barnes in- 
terested her new mistress in the girl, who was 
thus started out in a useful, independent life. 

This institution, though it never had a name, 
grew and flourished, and Nora still lives in the 
Barnes Home, manages the Barnes income, 
and “ lends a hand ” wherever needed. 

a And that ’s the story of how the Barnes 
Home came to be,” said Mrs. Wilson, in 
ending. 

“ And was that nice lady that you went to 
see about a maid,” cried Kristy eagerly, turn- 
ing to her mother, “ was she Nora? ” 


SHALL I TELL ANOTHER? 105 

u Yes, ” said her mother, “ she was Nora. ,, 
u That was fine ! ” said Kristy. “ Thank you 
so much, Mrs. Wilson.” 

“ That story of a great charity, started 
through one poor girl,” said Mrs. Wilson, u re- 
minds me of another that I heard lately ; shall 
I tell it, Kristy? ” 

“ Oh, do ! ” said Kristy. 


CHAPTER IX 


ONE LITTLE CANDLE 

This story is about a girl not much older 
than you, who had a great trouble come upon 
her, some years ago. Her father who was — 
I ’m sorry to say — a drunkard, had at last 
died, leaving Alice Rawson, and her brother a 
little older, to take care of their invalid mother. 

The trouble that came upon her, as I said, 
was the finding that the brother, who was 
steady at his work, and proud to support the 
family, began to go out every evening. The 
great dread seized her that he would follow in 
the footsteps of his father. They had suffered 
so much from the father’s habits, that this was 
almost more than she could bear, and she felt 
sure that it would kill her mother. 

She tried every way she could think of to 
entertain her brother at home, but she could 
not make it gay and lively as it was in the 


A SHOCKING DISCOVERY 


107 


saloon where the hoys met, and when she 
tried to coax him to stay at home, he answered 
her that it was awful dull in the evening after 
a long day’s work. 

Alice could not deny this, and she had not a 
word to say when one evening he ended with, 
“ You can’t expect a fellow to stay mewed up 
at home all the time. Now look here,” as he 
saw the tears come into Alice’s eyes, “you 
need n’t fret about me, Sis. I ’m bound to take 
care of myself, but I must have a little plea- 
sure after working all day. Good-by ; I’ll be 
home by nine.” 

But he was not home by nine, nor by ten, 
and the clock had struck eleven when Alice 
heard his step. She hurried to the door to let 
him in. His face was flushed, and his breath 
— alas ! — reminded her of her father’s. 

He made some excuse and hurried off to bed, 
and Alice sank into a chair in the sitting-room. 
She was shocked. She was grieved. This was 
the first time Jack had showed signs of being 
under the influence of strong drink, and she 
felt as if she could not bear it. 


108 KRISTY’S RAINY DAY PICNIC 


A month before, they had laid in a drunk- 
ard’s grave their father, and over his terrible 
death-bed, Jack had promised their mother 
that he would not follow in his steps. 

“ Yet now — so soon — he has begun,” 
thought Alice, sitting there alone in the cold. 
“ And how can I blame him, poor boy ! ” she 
went on, “ when it is so dull and stupid for 
him here ? It ’s no wonder he prefers the plea- 
sant warm room, the lights, the gay company, 
the games that he gets at Mason’s. Oh, why 
are n’t good things as free as bad ones ! ” she 
cried out in her distress. 

“ But what can I do ? ” was the question to 
which her thoughts ever came back. “ I must 
save Jack, for he ’s all mother and I have ; but 
how?” 

“ What can one girl do, without money and 
without friends — almost?” thought Alice, re- 
membering, with a shudder, that a drunkard’s 
daughter is apt to have few influential friends. 

Alice Rawson was clear-headed though 
young. She thought the matter over during 
the next day, as she went about her work in 


BANGING THE PILLOWS 


109 


the house, waiting on her invalid mother, mak- 
ing the cottage tidy, and cooking their plain 
meals. 

“ It ’s no use to talk,” she said to herself ; 
Ci Jack means to do what ’s right. And it ’s 
even worse to scold or be cross to him, for 
that only makes him stay away more.” And 
she gave the pillow she was stirring up a sav- 
age poke to relieve her feelings. 

“ I know, too,” she went on, pausing with 
the other pillow in her hand, “ that when he ’s 
there with the boys, it’s awful hard never 
to spend a cent when the others do. It looks 
mean, and Jack hates being mean ; ” and she 
flung the pillow back into its place with such 
spirit that it went over on to the floor. 

“ What are you banging about so for ? ” 
asked her mother, from the next room. 

“ Oh, nothing. I was thinking, mother,” 
she answered. And she went on thinking. 

“ What would be best would be to have 
some other place just as pleasant, and warm, 
and free as Mason’s, — some good place.” 
Alice sighed at this thought. 


110 KRISTY’S RAINY DAY PICNIC 


“ It can’t be here at home, because it takes 
so much money to have it warm and light ; 
and besides, his friends would n’t feel free to 
come, and it would be lonely for him.” 

“ Alice, what are you muttering about ? ” 
called Mrs. Rawson. 

“ Nothing, mother ; I ’m only making a 
plan.” 

“If I could get books and papers,” she 
went on, closing the door, and starting for the 
kitchen ; “ but Jack is too tired to read much.” 

Suddenly a new thought struck her, and 
she stood in the middle of the kitchen like a 
statue. 

“ I wonder — I do wonder why a place 
could n’t be fixed — a room somewhere ! I be- 
lieve people would help if they only thought 
how good it would be for boys. That would 
be splendid ! ” And she looked anything but 
a statue now, for she fairly beamed with 
delight at the thought. 

“I don’t suppose I can do much alone,” 
she said later, as the plan grew more into 
shape ; “but it’s for Jack, and that’ll help me 


HER HEART FLUTTERED 111 

talk to people, I’m sure, and at least I can 
try.” 

She did try. Without troubling her mother 
with her plans, — for she knew she would be 
worried and think of a dozen objections to 
it, — in her delicate state of health, — Alice 
hurried through with her work, put on her 
things, and went to call first on Mr. Smith, 
a grocer. She happened to know that at the 
back of Mr. Smith’s store was a room open- 
ing on a side street, which he had formerly 
rented for a cobbler’s shop, but which was 
now empty. 

Alice’s heart fluttered wildly a moment, 
when she stood before the grocer in his pri- 
vate office, where she was sent when she asked 
of the clerk an interview with Mr. Smith. 

“ You are Rawson’s daughter, I believe,” 
was Mr. Smith’s greeting. 

“Yes,” said Alice, “I am Alice Rawson, 
and you ’ll think I am crazy, I ’m afraid, when 
I tell you my errand,” she went on, trembling. 
“ But oh, Mr. Smith ! if you remember my fa- 
ther before — before ” — 


112 KRISTY’S RAINY DAY PICNIC 


“ 1 do, child/’ said the grocer kindly, sup- 
posing she had come to ask for help. 

“ Then you ’ll not wonder,” she went oti 
bravely, “ that I am going to try every way to 
save my brother.” 

“Is your brother in danger?” asked Mr. 
Smith. “ And what can I do ? ” 

“He is in danger,” said Alice earnestly, 
“ of doing just as father did, and so are lots 
of other boys, and what you can do is to let 
me have Johnson’s old shop, free of rent for 
a little while, to make an experiment — if I 
can get help,” she added warmly. 

“ But what will you do ? I don’t under- 
stand,” said Mr. Smith. 

“ What will I do ? Oh, I ’ll try to make a 
place as pleasant as Mason’s saloon, that 
shan’t cost anything, and I ’ll try to get 
every boy and young man to go there, and 
not to Mason’s. If they could have a nice, 
warm place of their own, Mr. Smith, don’t 
you think they would go there ? ” she asked 
anxiously. 

“ I don’t know but they would,” said the 


SHE TOOK THE KEY 


113 


grocer ; “ but it ’s an experiment. I don’t see 
where you ’ll get things to put in, or your fire, 
or anything to make it rival Mason’s. How- 
ever, I ’m busy now and can’t talk more, and 
as you ’re in earnest and the cause is good, 
I ’ll let you have the room to try the plan.” 

“ Oh, thank you ! ” cried Alice. 

“ Here ’s the key,” taking that article down 
from a nail. “ Say no more, child, I could n’t 
rent it this winter anyway,” as she tried to 
speak. 

Alice walked out with her precious key, 
feeling as if the whole thing was done. But 
it was far from that. 

Her next visit — she had carefully planned 
them all out — was to a man who sold wood ; 
for in that village wood was the only fuel. 

This man, Mr. Williams, had a son who was 
somewhat dissipated, therefore he was ready to 
listen patiently to Alice’s pleading, and to help 
in any really practical plan. He listened inter- 
estedly, and promised to give a cord of cut 
wood to begin with, and if it proved a success, 
to give enough to run the fireplace — there 


114 KRISTY’S RAINY DAY PICNIC 


was no stove — all the evenings of that win- 
ter. 

Next, Alice went to the finest house in the 
village, where lived Mrs. Burns, a wealthy 
lady, whose son was wild and gave her anxiety. 

“ She must pity mother and me,” thought 
Alice, as she walked up the broad walk to the 
house, “ and I ’m sure she ’ll help.” 

She did. She was surprised at Alice’s brav- 
ery, but warmly approved of her plan. 
“ You ’ll want books and papers,” she said, 
“ and you must have hot coffee always ready.” 

“I had n’t dared to think of so much,” said 
Alice. 

“ But you must have coffee,” repeated Mrs. 
Burns, “ or they ’ll miss their beer too much ; 
and you must charge enough to pay for it, say 
two cents a cup ; I think it could be made 
for that.” 

“ But then we must have some one to make 
it,” said Alice thoughtfully. 

“ Yes,” said Mrs. Burns, “ and I think I 
know the very woman — Mrs. Hart. She is 
poor, and I know will be glad, for a little 


THE PLAN PROSPERED 


115 


wages (which I shall pay her), to spend her 
evenings there, making coffee. She ’s a jolly 
sort of a person, too, and I think would be 
just the one to make the boys feel at home. 

u And I ’ll do more,” went on the kind- 
hearted woman, “ I ’ll give you an old-fash- 
ioned bookcase I have upstairs, and some 
books to start a library. Other ladies will give 
you more, and you ’ll have it full, no doubt.” 

After leaving Mrs. Burns, Alice’s work was 
much easier, for that lady gave her a little 
subscription book, in which she entered Mr. 
Smith’s gift of the room-rent, Mr. Williams’s 
gift of the wood, and her own of the hire of 
the woman to tend it, a dozen books in a book- 
case, and two comfortable chairs. 

Alice called at nearly every house in the 
village, and almost every one gave something. 
Several gave books ; two or three others agreed 
to send their weekly papers when they had 
read them ; many gave one chair each ; three 
or four gave plain tables, games, — backgam- 
mon and checkers, — and two or three bright 
colored prints were promised. 


116 KRISTY’S RAINY DAY PICNIC 


Red print curtains for the windows, and 
cups and saucers for the coffee, came from 
the village storekeeper, a teakettle to hang 
over the fire, and a tin coffee-pot, came from 
the tin-shop; cheap, plated teaspoons from 
the jeweler; two copies of the daily paper and 
promise of lots of exchanges, from the editor 
of the only paper. 

In fact, a sort of enthusiasm seemed to be 
aroused on the subject, and when Alice went 
home that night, her little book had a list of 
furniture enough to make the room as plea- 
sant as could be desired. 

The next day was quite as busy. The 
woman Mrs. Burns had engaged came to put 
the room in order, and after it had a thorough 
scrubbing, Alice went out to collect the furni- 
ture. The village expressman, who owned a 
hand-cart, had subscribed his services to the 
plan, and Alice went with him, book in hand, 
and gathered up the gifts. 

The floor was covered with fresh sawdust — 
the butcher sent that ; the gay curtains were 
up, the bookcase full of books was arranged, 


THE NEW COFFEE-ROOM 


117 


some tables were covered with papers, and 
others with games, a rousing fire was built in 
the fireplace, the tea-kettle was singing away 
merrily, and at a side table with cups and cof- 
fee things, sat Mrs. Hart, when Alice asked 
Jack to go somewhere with her. He consented 
though a good deal surprised. She brought 
him to this room. 

“ What ’s this ? ” asked Jack, as they turned 
down the street. A sign was over the door 
(Mr. Dover, the sign-painter gave that) of 
“ Coffee-Room.” This is something new.” 

“ Yes,” said Alice, “ let’s go in.” 

Jack was too surprised to reply, and fol- 
lowed his sister as she opened the door. 

There sat smiling Mrs. Hart, with knitting 
in hand, a delightful odor of coffee in the air, 
and a sign over her table which said “ Coffee 
two cents.” 

“ Let ’s have some,” said Jack ; “ how good 
it smells ! ” 

" Since you went out, Miss Alice,” said Mrs. 
Hart, as she poured the two cups, “ a big pack- 
age of coffee — ten pounds at the least — and 


118 KRISTY’S RAINY DAY PICNIC 


another of sugar has most mysteriously ap- 
peared and she nodded towards the grocer’s 
part of the house, to indicate the giver. 

“Why, what have you to do with it?” 
asked Jack, looking sharply at Alice. 

“ She ! ” exclaimed Mrs. Hart. “ Don’t you 
know ? She got it up ; it ’s all her doing — 
everything in this room.” 

“ No, no, Mrs. Hart,” protested Alice, “ I 
did n’t give a single thing.” 

“ Except your time and the plan, and every- 
thing,” said Mrs. Hart warmly. 

“ What does it mean ? Tell me, Alice,” 
asked Jack; and she told him. “And the 
room is for you, Jack, and the other boys ; 
and every evening there’ll be a bright fire 
and hot coffee, and Mrs. Hart to make it, 
and I hope — oh, I do hope — you’ll come 
here and have a good time every night,” she 
ended. 

Jack was touched. “ Ally, you’re a trump ! 
and I’ll do it sure.” 

And he did. At first when the story got 
out, all the boys came from curiosity to see 


A GREAT SUCCESS 


119 


what one girl had done ; and after that they 
continued to come because it was the plea- 
santest place in town and all their own. 

No irksome restraints were put upon the 
boys, and there were no visitors who came to 
give them temperance lectures or unwelcome 
advice; no boy was asked to read book or 
paper, and no one was told how much better 
for him was coffee than beer. This, each one 
found out for himself, in the best way — by 
experience. 

Every evening, before it was time for the 
boys to begin to come, Alice would run down 
to see that everything was right, that the 
fire was bright, the coffee ready, and Mrs. 
Hart in her place. Then she would open the 
bookcase, select three or four of the most in- 
teresting looking books, and lay them around 
on the tables, in a careless way, as if they were 
accidentally left there. 

Nor did she let people forget about it. As 
often as once a week, she went to the houses of 
those most interested, and received from one 
the weekly papers that had been read, from 


120 KRISTY’S RAINY DAY PICNIC 


another a fresh book or magazine, and from a 
third some new game or a pretty print to put 
on the wall. 

Coffee and the things to put in it, Alice 
had no need to ask for. The two cents a cup 
proved to be more than enough to pay for it. 

Promptly at half-past nine Mrs. Hart gath- 
ered up the things and washed the cups and 
saucers, and as the clock struck ten she put out 
the lights and locked the door. 

Books and papers did their silent work, and 
before spring the young men grew ashamed 
of owing their comforts to charity, so they 
agreed among themselves to pay a small sum 
weekly toward expenses. It was not binding 
on any one, but nearly every one was glad to 
do it, and by this means, before another win- 
ter, the coffee-room was an independent es- 
tablishment. 

The power it was among those boys could 
not be told, till years afterwards, when it was 
found that nearly every one who had spent his 
evenings there had become a sober, honest 
citizen, while those who preferred the saloon, 


THE EFFECT ON J ACK 


121 


filled drunkards’ graves, or lived criminals, and 
a pest upon society. 

On Jack himself, the effect was perhaps the 
most striking. As Alice had started the thing, 
he could not help feeling it his business to 
see that the boys had a good time, and also, 
to keep order among them. Mrs. Hart soon 
found that he was a sort of special policeman, 
always ready to settle difficulties, and make 
the boys behave themselves if necessary — 
which it seldom was. 

Feeling the responsibility of his position 
and influence, brought out in him a manliness 
of character he had never before shown, and 
when he became a man in years, no one could 
have the slightest fear that Jack Rawson would 
ever follow in the downward steps of his father. 
And all this he owed to the fact that Alice 
tried what one girl could do. 

It is Shakespeare who says, — 

u How far that little candle throws its beams ! 

So shines a good deed in a naughty world.” 

“You said it was going on now,” said 
Kristy, as Mrs. Wilson paused. 


122 KRISTY’S RAINY DAY PICNIC 


“ Yes, it is; I was in that town a few days 
ago, and one of the neighbors told me the 
whole story.” 

“ That ’s a good deal for one girl to do,” 
said Kristy. 

“ I know it is,” said Mrs. Wilson, “but 
I know of another girl who did almost as 
much.” 

“ What did she do ? ” asked Kristy, all inter- 
est. 

“ She conquered a crusty old woman, who 
was soured to all the world.” 

“ Conquered her ? ” asked Kristy puzzled. 

“ Yes ; shall I tell you? I see it is raining 
yet, and mamma’s time is n’t out.” 

“ Please do ! ” said Kristy, adding as she 
turned to her mother, “Mamma, you ’re get- 
ting off too easy.” 

“ Oh, I’m afraid I shall have to make it up 
later,” said mamma, in pretended dismay. 

“ Indeed you will,” said Kristy, with a 
laugh ; “ I shan’t let you off a single story.” 

“ We’ll see,” said mamma smiling, as Mrs 
Wilson began. 


CHAPTER X 


THE LOCKET TOLD 

This is about a girl who drove the village 
cows out to pasture every morning and back 
to the village every evening. She had to pass 
a small cottage, almost hidden with flowers, 4 
where lived a mysterious woman whom the 
foolish and ignorant children of the neighbor- 
hood called “ old witch,” simply because she 
had a hump on her back and was rarely seen, 
except when she rushed out to drive away 
some naughty child trying to steal her flowers 
through the fence. She attended to her garden 
very early in the morning before other people 
were out of bed, and so was rarely seen except 
on these occasions. 

One day she was sitting at her window, be- 
hind the blinds as usual, when the girl I spoke 
of came by with her cows. 

66 There ’s that cow-girl again,” said Hester 


124 KRISTY’S RAINY DAY PICNIC 


Bartlett — for that was her name — u staring 
at my sweet peas as usual ! I must go and 
drive her away or she ’ll be putting her hand 
through the fence to get some. But what a 
wretched looking creature she is ! ” she went 
on thoughtfully, looking more closely. “ She ’s 
worse off than you are, Hester Bartlett, if she 
has n’t got a humpback. Hardly a decent 
rag to her back — not a shoe or stocking — 
an old boy’s hat, picked out of a gutter likely. 
And how she does stare! looks as if she’d eat 
the flowers. Well anyway,” she went on 
more slowly, “ she’s got good taste ; she never 
turns an eye on my finest flowers, but stands 
glued to the sweet peas.” 

Another silence ; the ragged girl still spell- 
bound without; the little, humpbacked mis- 
tress of the house peering through the blinds, 
an unusual feeling of pity restraining her 
from going to the door and putting to flight 
the strange, shy girl who seemed so fond of 
sweet peas. 

“ I ’ve a good mind to give her some,” was 
the kind thought that next stirred her heart, 



[he had to paM a cottage . almost 
hidden rnith Bilomerg . 





THE GIRL RAN 


125 


“ but I suppose she ’d run away if I spoke to 
her, or call me old witch as the rest of ’em 
do,” she went on bitterly, talking to herself, 
as people do who live alone; then adding, 
“ Well, I can’t stand here all day ; I must go 
on with my work,” she took up a watering- 
pot she had filled, and started for her little 
flower patch. 

The instant the door opened, the flower- 
lover at the fence started on a run after the 
cows, which finding themselves not urged from 
behind, had stopped and were contentedly 
cropping the grass beside the road. 

In a few minutes she had them safely shut 
into their pasture, and turned back towards the 
village. 

As she passed Miss Hester, that lady was ty- 
ing up some straggling vines, and almost to 
her own surprise, moved by her unwonted feel- 
ing of pity for the child, she hastily picked half 
a dozen stems of the fragrant blossoms and 
held them out. 

“Want some?” she said shortly, almost 
gruffly, to the half-frightened child. 


126 KRISTY’S RAINY DAY PICNIC 


The girl stopped. “ 0h ? Miss Hester ! ” she 
said doubtingly, half afraid of the strange- 
looking, little woman who lived by herself, 
and was never known to speak to anybody. 

“ If you don’t want ’em,” said Miss Hester 
savagely, “you needn’t have ’em,” and she 
flung the flowers far over the fence and turned 
away. 

Maggie — for that was her name — with a 
cry of horror sprang eagerly after them, 
picked them up carefully, shook off the dust, 
and turned again to the little garden. But 
Miss Hester had gone in and shut the door, 
and slowly, but in a state of rapture, the child 
went on — hugging and caressing her flowers, 
— to what had been her home since her 
mother, a year before, had been carried 
from their poor room to the hospital, and 
never come back. She lived with a woman 
who added a bit to her scanty earnings by 
taking the village cows on their morning and 
evening journeys, and for this service she gave 
Maggie a shelter and a share of the scanty 
food on her table. 


MAGGIE HALF AFRAID 


127 


When she went with the cows that evening, 
Maggie looked eagerly into the little garden 
as she passed, but Miss Hester was not there. 
Maggie could not see her, but she sat behind 
her blind looking out eagerly. Could it be to 
see the child ? 

Maggie hesitated ; she wanted to say “ Thank 
you,” yet she was half afraid of the strange, 
silent woman. She waited a moment, hoping 
she would come out, but all was still, and 
slowly and lingeringly at last she went on. 

In this odd way began a curious acquaint- 
ance between the lonely woman and the still 
more friendless girl. Sometimes, if Miss Hester 
happened to be in her garden when Maggie 
went by, she would half reluctantly toss a 
flower over the fence, which Maggie always 
received with delight, while still half afraid of 
the giver. But generally Hester, with a strange 
feeling of shyness, managed to be in the house, 
where strange to say, she hung around the win- 
dow and seemed unable to settle to anything, 
till the pale little thing had passed. 

So it went on, till winter settled down grim 


128 KRISTY’S RAINY DAY PICNIC 


and cold on that New England village, and 
the cows went no more to the snow-covered 
pasture, and Maggie — fixed up a bit as to 
clothes by some kind ladies of the village — 
went every day to school. 

As the weather grew colder, Miss Hester 
shut herself more and more into her house, 
and so months passed and the strange acquaint- 
ance progressed no farther. 

One cold night, after everybody in the lit- 
tle village was snugly tucked into bed, and 
every light was out, a wind came down from 
the plains of the great Northwest, and brought 
with it millions and billions of beautiful dan- 
cing flakes of snow, and proceeded to have a 
grand frolic. 

All night long the snow and the wind played 
around the houses and through the streets, and 
in the morning when people began to get up 
and look out, they hardly knew their own vil- 
lage. It seemed to be turned into a strange 
range of white hills, with here and there a 
roof or a chimney peeping out. There were 
no fences, there were no roads, but all was one 


BURIED IN SNOW 


129 


mass of glittering white, and the wind was still 
at work tossing the billions of sharp little ice- 
needles into the face of any one who ventured 
to peep out, sending a shower of snow into an 
open door, and piling it up in great drifts in 
every sheltered spot. So nearly everybody 
who was comfortable at home, and had plenty 
to eat in the house, at once decided to stay 
there. There was no use trying to dig them- 
selves out until the snow stopped falling, and 
the wind got tired of tossing it about. 

The villagers were late in getting up, for 
the snow before the windows made it dark, 
and it was nearly nine o’clock when Mrs. 
Burns said to Maggie, “You must try to get 
to the well ; I ’m out of water.” 

So Maggie put on her coat and mittens, 
tied her hood down over her ears, took the 
pail, and went out. 

Fortunately, the kitchen door was in a 
sheltered place, and no snow was piled up 
before it, but she had a hard time getting 
through the drifts to the well. However, she 
did at last succeed in drawing the water and 


130 KRISTY’S RAINY DAY PICNIC 


getting back to the door. As she set down 
the pail, a thought struck her, — “ What will 
become of Miss Hester in this storm ? ” 

She went out again, closing the door softly 
behind her, and looked toward the cottage, 
which was not far off, in plain sight. In the 
place where the little house should be was a 
great white hill. Maggie floundered through 
the drifts till she reached the gate, where she 
had a better view. 

The storm held up for a moment, so that 
Maggie could see over the village. Every 
house in sight was sending up a thin column 
of smoke, showing there was life within. Miss 
Hester’s chimney alone was smokeless. 

“ Dear me ! ” thought the child, “ I ’m 
afraid she ’s sick, and what ’ll become of her 
and the cow — the shed is so far off, and she 
could never fight her way through the drifts, 
— she ain’t very strong — and so little.” An- 
other pause while she strained her eyes to see 
signs of life about the cottage. 

“Well, anyway,” she said at last, “she 
was awful good to me last summer, and I ’ll 


MAGGIE WAS FRIGHTENED 131 

see if I can’t get there to help her/’ and she 
bravely started out. 

It was a hopeless-looking task, for between 
Mrs. Burns’s and Hester Bartlett’s were drifts 
that seemed mountain high. Not a soul was 
in sight, and just then the storm began again, 
wilder than ever. 

But Maggie was not to be daunted; that cold, 
smokeless chimney gave her a strange feeling 
of fear, and nerved her for great efforts. 

I shall not go with her step by step over 
her terrible journey, for though the house was 
near, every step was a struggle and a battle. 
Many times she fell down and got up stagger- 
ing and blinded by snow ; many times she lost 
her direction and had to wait till a momentary 
lull in the storm showed her the forlorn chim- 
ney again. 

Through unheard-of difficulties she reached 
the house, her clothes full of the dry, powdery 
snow, her eyes blinded, her hair a mass of 
white, and aching in every limb from her ef- 
forts and the cold. 

The front door was completely buried in 


132 KRISTY’S RAINY DAY PICNIC 


snow, and indeed, the whole front of the cot- 
tage seemed but a snow mountain. The drifts 
were lower on the side, so she staggered on 
towards the kitchen door. As she came near, 
she saw, to her dismay, that the snow had fal- 
len away, and the door was open. 

Now thoroughly alarmed, she struggled on, 
and reached the step. The snow had fallen in- 
ward, and the drift inside was as heavy as that 
outside. 

At first she hesitated to enter the house she 
had always dreaded, but in an instant she re- 
flected that Miss Hester would not leave her 
door open if she were able to shut it, and she 
staggered in. Two steps inside she stumbled 
over something, and dashing the snow out 
of her eyes, she saw to her horror, the well- 
known brown dress of Miss Hester, and sure 
enough there she lay on the floor, half covered 
with snow, silent — perhaps dead. 

One little scream escaped Maggie’s lips, and 
then she fell on her knees before her. No, 
she was not dead, but she was unconscious 
and perfectly cold. 


SHE FLEW TO WORK 


133 


In a moment her own sufferings were for- 
gotten. She did not know or did not care 
that she was exhausted from her struggles — 
that she was herself half frozen. She flew to 
work. 

First she dragged Miss Hester away from 
the snow, with difficulty shut the door, then 
hurried into the bedroom, brought out a pillow 
and blanket, put the pillow under Miss Hes- 
ter’s head, wrapped the blanket around her 
on the floor, and then hurried to the stove. 

The fire was ready to light ; evidently Miss 
Hester had opened the door to look out before 
starting her fire, and the great drift had fallen 
upon her and knocked her down. 

Maggie did not stop to think of all this. She 
looked around for matches and lighted the fire, 
then turned her attention to the silent figure 
on the floor. She chafed her hands and 
warmed them in her own, which now from 
excitement were burning, and before long 
she had the happiness of seeing the closed 
eyes open and the blood rush back to the 
white face. 


134 KRISTY’S RAINY DAY PICNIC 


The sight of the child working over her 
brought Miss Hester to very quickly. She 
tried to spring up, but fell back too weak to 
do so. Then she began to talk. 

“ Where am I ? Why are you here ? Why 
can’t I get up? ” 

As quickly as she could, Maggie told her 
everything. How the village was snowed under, 
and seeing her chimney without smoke alarmed 
her, and she had found her on the floor with 
snow-drifts over her, and had lighted the fire 
and got the blanket and warmed her. 

Long before she had ended her tale, Miss 
Hester could sit up and see for herself the 
snow and the condition of the room. Then 
she thought she could get up, and with the 
help of Maggie she did, and sat in her chair, 
strangely enough — as it seemed to her — too 
weak to stand. 

When she was seated, Maggie had stopped 
— it was different making fires and taking lib- 
erties in this kitchen while it seemed necessary 
to her life, but now that Miss Hester could sit 
up and look at her, Maggie hesitated. Miss 


MISS HESTER WAS WATCHING 135 


Hester leaned back and closed her eyes and 
then Maggie said : — 

“ Please, Miss Hester, may I get you some- 
thing to eat, and sweep out the snow, and help 
you?” 

“If you will, child,” said Miss Hester slowly. 
“ I don’t seem to be able to do anything ; I 
shall be very glad to have you.” 

Then Maggie went to work again, and how 
she did fly ! She put the teakettle on to the 
now warmed stove ; she searched about in the 
pantry till she found the coffee and the coffee- 
pot. Then she drew up beside Miss Hester a 
little table, put on the dishes, and in a word, pro- 
ceeded to set out as dainty a breakfast as she 
knew how to get out of what she could find. 

All this time Miss Hester had apparently 
been half asleep, so that Maggie did not like 
to ask her anything; but she was far from 
asleep. She was watching eagerly, through 
half-closed eyelids, everything her neat hand- 
maiden did. 

As for Maggie, she had not been so happy 
since her mother had taught her all sorts of 


136 KRISTY’S RAINY DAY PICNIC 


neat household ways. She hunted up the 
butter and the bread ; she made a fragrant 
cup of coffee and toasted a slice of bread, and 
when all was ready, she spoke to Miss Hester. 

“ Please, Miss Hester,” she said timidly, “ will 
you drink some coffee ? I think you will feel 
better.” 

Miss Hester opened her eyes as if just wak- 
ened. “ Why, how nicely you have got break- 
fast ! ” she said ; “ but here ’s only one cup and 
plate ! Get another for yourself — you shall 
have it with me;” and as Maggie hastened, de- 
lighted, to do her bidding, she added, “ Bring 
a jar of marmalade from the second shelf, and 
look for some crullers in a stone crock.” 

Maggie did as she was bid, and in a few 
minutes the two strange friends were enjoying 
their breakfast together. 

Miss Hester was confined to her bed several 
days, with the cold she had taken that fate- 
ful morning, and during that time, Maggie did 
everything for her, every minute she was out 
of school. When at last Miss Hester was able 
to be about, she had become so attached to 


THE LOCKET APPEARS 


137 


Maggie, and found such comfort v in her help, 
that she was not willing to let her go. Maggie 
being equally delighted to stay, the arrange- 
ment was soon made, and Maggie came to 
the cottage to live. 

The strangest part of the story is yet to 
come. 

When Christmas time drew near, Miss 
Hester one day, while Maggie was at school, 
opened some long-closed drawers in her desk 
to see if she could find something to give 
Maggie on that day, for she had not forgot- 
ten her own youthful days when Christmas 
was the event of the year. 

Among the long-forgotten treasures of the 
past, she came upon a little locket given her 
when she was about Maggie’s age, by her 
only brother, who had gone to the war and 
been killed in battle, severing the last link 
that bound the solitary girl to the world. Since 
that, she had lived alone and shrank from all 
society. 

“Poor Eddy!” she said, taking the trinket 
up in her hands, “ how different would have 


138 KRISTY’S RAINY DAY PICNIC 


been my life if you had lived ! But it ’s no 
use keeping these relies of the past ; they 
would much better make some one happy in 
the present. I think Maggie will like this.” 

With a sigh she turned over the contents 
of the drawer, every item of which was associ- 
ated with her happier days, till she found a 
fine gold chain which had held the locket 
around her neck. This she laid aside with the 
locket, closed and locked the drawer. 

When the great day arrived, Maggie, who 
had not dreamed of a present, was surprised 
and delighted to receive it. The locket was very 
pretty, of gold, with a letter B in black enamel 
on it. Miss Hester hung it around her neck, 
and was as pleased as Maggie herself to see 
how pretty it looked. 

“ 1 wonder if it will open,” said Maggie to 
herself a little later, when she had taken it off 
to examine more closely ; “ I ’ll try it,” and she 
worked over it a long time but without success. 

That was a very busy day in the cottage ; 
that evening was to be a great school exhibi- 
tion to which all the village was invited. Mag- 


THE SURPRISE 


139 


gie, who was a bright scholar, had to speak 
a piece, and Miss Hester had made her a pretty 
white dress out of an old one of her own. 

Maggie never felt so fine in her life as 
when, her hair smoothly braided by Miss 
Hester, and tied with a bright ribbon from 
her old stores, she had put on the white dress, 
and hung around her neck the cherished 
locket. 

For the first time in her life, she was dressed 
like other girls, and it was with a very happy 
heart that she kissed Miss Hester and went to 
the schoolhouse, regretting only that Miss 
Hester could not be persuaded to go with her. 

After the exercises of the evening were 
over, a social hour followed, in which ice 
cream and cake were served, and every one 
walked around the room to talk with their 
friends; and now came the surprise of the 
evening — the most wonderful event in Mag- 
gie’s life. 

Among the familiar villagers, she had no- 
ticed a quiet, pleasant-faced man who seemed 
to be a stranger, — at least she had never seen 


140 KRISTY’S RAINY DAY PICNIC 


him before. He had come with the family 
from the little hotel, and no doubt at their 
invitation. 

This gentleman was walking about, looking 
with interest at the people, when he came face 
to face with Maggie. He stopped suddenly ; 
his eyes opened wide, and he seemed strangely 
moved — almost shocked. 

Maggie was frightened, and tried to leave 
her place, but he stopped her with a low, eager 
question. 

“ Little girl, where did you get that locket?” 

Maggie supposed he thought she had stolen 
it, and a bright color rose to her face, as she 
answered indignantly, “It was given to me 
to-day.” 

“ By whom? ” he cried ; “ tell me instantly !” 

“ By Miss Hester,” Maggie replied, trying 
again to get away, for his eager manner fright- 
ened her. 

“Miss Hester!” he repeated, in a disap- 
pointed tone, then muttering to himself, “ It 
can’t be ! yet it is so like ! let me see it ! ” with 
a sudden movement. 


THE LOCKET SHOULD OPEN 141 

“ No ! ” cried Maggie, now almost crying 
with fright, and clutching her treasure. 

By this time some of the people around 
had noticed the scene, and the hotel-keeper 
came up. 

“ What is it, Mr. Bartlett ? ” 

The gentleman tried to calm himself, seeing 
that they had become the centre of a curious 
crowd, and then replied : — 

“ Why, I find on this child the double of a 
locket I gave my sister years ago, a sister who 
has disappeared and whom I have been seek- 
ing for years ; I wanted to examine it — but I 
seem to have frightened her ; will you, if you 
know her, ask her to let me look at it ? If it 
is the one I seek, it should open by a secret 
spring, and have a boy’s face inside. If it 
should help me to find my long-lost sister ! ” 
He paused, much moved. 

Mr. Wild, the hotel-keeper, calmed Mag- 
gie, and asked her to let the gentleman ex- 
amine it. 

As he took it in his hand, he murmured, 
“ The very same ! here is a mark I well remem- 


142 KRISTY’S RAINY DAY PICNIC 


ber. Now if I can open it !” He held it a mo- 
ment when suddenly it sprang open, to Mag- 
gie’s amazement, and there — sure enough — 
was a faded, old-fashioned daguerreotype of a 
boy’s face. 

“ It is the very one ! ” he exclaimed in 
excitement. “Now where is this Miss — What 
did you say her name was? Where could 
she have got it ?” 

“ She told me,” said Maggie, trembling, 
“ that her brother gave it to her.” 

“ So I did,” said the man eagerly ; “ but the 
name ! can she have changed her name ? ” 

“ It is Miss Hester Bartlett,” said one 
of the bystanders, “and she is — a little — 
deformed, and lives alone in the edge of the 
village.” 

The man turned so white he seemed about 
to faint as he said: “It is she! Friends” — 
turning to the much interested crowd, “ I have 
sought her for years. I was in the army and 
reported killed in battle, and when I went 
home to take care of my unfortunate sister, 
she had disappeared, and I have never till 


CRYING FOR JOY 143 

now found a clue to her. Take me to her in- 
stantly ! ” turning to Maggie, who was now 
really crying for joy to think of Miss Hester’s 
happiness. 

But the people urged that such a shock, 
when she supposed him dead, might he very 
dangerous, and at last he was persuaded to let 
some one who knew her break the joyful 
news to her. 

Maggie went back to the cottage the hap- 
piest girl in the village, and the next morning 
the news was safely broken to Miss Hester, 
who in a short half hour found herself crying 
on her brother’s shoulder — the richest and 
the happiest woman in all the world, as she said 
through her tears. 

From that day a new life began for Maggie, 
for neither brother nor sister would hear of 
parting from her, who had been the means of 
their finding each other. A larger house was 
built, and Miss Hester persuaded to mingle a 
little with her neighbors, while Maggie took 
her place among the young people on equal 
terms with all. 


144 KRISTY’S RAINY DAY PICNIC 

“ That was splendid ! ” said Kristy, with 
shining eyes, as Mrs. Wilson ended her story. 
“ Is it true ? Did it really happen ? ” 

“ Yes, it is true ; I know Maggie myself, — 
met her last summer, when I went to B — .” 

“I should like to know her,” said Kristy. 
“ Can’t you tell another, Mrs. Wilson ? ” 

“ Kristy,” said her mother, reprovingly, 
“ it ’s bad enough for you to tease me for sto- 
ries without making victims of others.” 

“ Oh, I like to tell stories,” said Mrs. Wilson, 
laughing, “and I think I have time to tell 
Kristy about the naughtiest day of my life.” 

“ Oh, do ! ” cried Kristy eagerly. 

“ Did you ever notice in my sitting-room a 
little dog preserved in a glass case ? ” 

“ Yes, I have,” said Kristy, “ and I have 
always wondered about it.” 

“ W ell ; I ’ll tell you why I preserve it so 
carefully. That little dog saved my life, I be- 
lieve, and if not my life, he certainly saved my 
reason.” 

“Oh, how was that, Mrs. Wilson?” said 
Kristy earnestly. 


CHAPTER XI 

HOW A DOG SAVED MY LIFE 

I was twelve years old when I had the most 
dreadful experience of my life — an expe- 
rience that I am sure would have ended in my 
death or insanity if it had not been for the 
love of my little dog Tony. 

It was all my own fault, too — my own 
naughtiness. But let me begin at the be- 
ginning. My father and mother were go- 
ing away from home on a short visit to my 
grandmother. They had arranged to have me 
stay at my Uncle Will’s and had given Molly, 
the maid, leave to spend the time at her own 
home ; so the house was to be shut up and left 
alone. 

Now I had an intimate friend, a schoolmate, 
of whom my mother did not approve, for 
family reasons, which I understood when I 
was older, and she never liked to have me be 


146 KRISTY’S RAINY DAY PICNIC 

much with her. When Maud — for that was 
her name — found out that I was to be at my 
uncle’s a few days, she at once asked me to 
stay with her instead. She offered all sorts of 
inducements. She was going to have a party 
— a dance it was — and my parents did not 
approve of dancing. In fact, she drew such an 
enticing picture of the good times we would 
have that I was tempted to do what I had never 
done in my life — deceive my own mother. 

I did not dare ask her to let me go to 
Maud’s, for I knew she would not consent, and 
if she positively forbade me, I think I should 
not have ventured to disobey, but if I did not 
ask her and she did not forbid, that — I thought 
— would not be so very bad. Fortifying 
myself by these thoughts, I decided to accept 
Maud’s invitation secretly. 

I made up my mind not to go to Uncle 
Will’s at all, for I did not want them to know 
where I was going. I knew my father or 
mother would lock the house and leave the 
key at Uncle Will’s, and I wanted to get my 
best clothes to go to Maud’s party. 


HID IN THE CELLAR 


147 


After some thought, and at Maud’s sug- 
gestion, I ‘planned to hide myself in the house 
till all had left it, then get the things I 
wanted, and slip out of a window that was not 
fastened. 

I knew my mother would go all over the 
house before she left it, and the only place I 
could think of to hide was in the cellar. So 
with these naughty thoughts in my head, I 
took occasion, a short time before they were 
to start, to slip into the cellar and hide behind 
some barrels. I must say that I had always a 
foolish fear of the cellar, and nothing but 
my great desire to go to Maud’s would 
have induced me to spend even a few minutes 
in it. 

I heard my father drive up to the door and 
my mother walking about seeing that every- 
thing was shut and locked, but I did not 
hear that as she passed the cellar door she 
slipped the bolt into place. 

When they were out of the house, and I 
heard them drive away, I came out of my hid- 
ing place, exulting in the thought that now 


148 KRISTY’S RAINY DAY PICNIC 


I was free to do as I liked. I would hurry up 
to my room, put my best dress and ribbons 
and things into a traveling bag, and hurry 
down to Maud’s. I felt my way to the stairs, 
for it was late afternoon and the cellar — 
never very light in the brightest noon — was 
at that hour quite dark, and I went up those 
stairs the happiest, lightest-hearted girl in the 
world. Alas ! it was my last happy moment 
for months. 

I fumbled about for the latch, lifted it, 
and pushed the door. It did not open — and 
the truth flashed upon me. It was locked ! I 
was a prisoner ! The full horror of my posi- 
tion burst upon me. No one knew I was 
there. No one would seek me. No one could 
hear me, for the house was at some distance 
from others. I was a prisoner in a dark cellar 
— it was almost night — my parents would 
be gone three days ! 

I went into a frenzy, I shrieked and called, I 
pounded the door till my hands were bleeding, 
though all the time I knew no one could hear 


me. 


LOCKED IN 


149 


I can scarcely remember what I did. I was, 
I believe, actually insane for a while. 

Night came on ; I heard — or I thought I 
heard — rats, and I remembered some of the 
terrible things I had read of these animals. I 
shouted again, and again beat the door. I can- 
not tell the horror and agony of those hours. 
I felt myself going mad. 

I was aroused at last, after hours, — it 
seemed to me, — by the whining and crying 
of my dog, my pet, who was my constant com- 
panion. He was a clever little fellow and, I 
used to think, knew as much as some folks. 
He was now at the small, grated window of the 
cellar, crying and scratching at the earth, evi- 
dently trying to dig his way in to me. 

His presence — even outside — comforted 
me, and a thought came to me. He had been 
taught to go to Uncle Will and others of the 
family, and perhaps he might be able to bring 
help. I called to him, and he responded joy- 
fully. Then I gave him his order. 

“ Call Uncle Will ! ” 

The faithful fellow did not want to leave 


150 KRISTY’S RAINY DAY PICNIC 


me ; he whined and cried, but I repeated the 
order in as stern a voice as I could man- 
age. 

“ Call Uncle Will ! ” I ordered again and 
again, and at last he ran off. 

Then I took hope and began to listen. If 
Uncle Will came near, I meant to call and 
scream to attract his attention. 

But hours passed; no one came — not 
even my dear Tony — and I heard noises and 
went mad again. I was getting exhausted, 
sitting uncomfortably on the top step of the 
stairs, and suffering such violent emotion. 

Meanwhile there was excitement at Uncle 
Will’s over the strange conduct of the dog. 
He barked, and howled, and cried at the door, 
till Uncle Will got out of bed to quiet him. 
But he would not be quiet, nor go into the 
house for all the coaxing. He insisted on bark- 
ing, running towards the gate, and then back 
in the most frantic way. 

At last, after he had kept the family 
awake all night, when daylight began to dawn, 
Uncle Will decided to follow him to see if he 


HE THOUGHT THE DOG MAD 151 

could find what was the matter, though he was 
sure the poor fellow was raving mad. 

The dog led him at once to the cellar win- 
dow, where he dug at the earth, and whined 
and cried harder than ever. At first I did not 
hear him, — I think I had become uncon- 
scious, — but at last I did rouse myself enough 
to utter a scream which Uncle Will heard. He 
did not recognize my voice, — indeed he said 
afterwards that it sounded like nothing hu- 
man, — but he resolved at any rate to see what 
it was. 

He went to the kitchen door to unlock it, 
but the dog went wilder than ever, seeming 
to think I was behind that window. However, 
Uncle Will came in, and on his unlocking the 
cellar door, I fell on the floor in a heap, as 
if dead. 

Uncle Will was awfully frightened; he 
took me up in his arms — big as I was — and 
ran with me back to his house, which was not 
far away. 

It was hours before I was fully myself, 
months before I recovered from the illness 


152 KRISTY’S RAINY DAY PICNIC 

caused by the cold I had taken, and years 
before I got back my courage and could bear 
to be alone — especially at night, when all the 
horrors of that time would come up before me 
as vividly as on that dreadful night. 

“ How dreadful ! ” said Kristy in a low 
tone, as Mrs. Wilson paused. 

“ I need n’t point the moral to you, Kristy,” 
Mrs. Wilson said, “ but I assure you I learned 
my lesson well ; and that ’s why I keep my 
dear little dog’s body in a glass case. I cher- 
ished him beyond everything as long as he 
lived, and could n’t bear to give him up when 
he died at a good old age. 

“Now,” said Mrs. Wilson, “I must really 
go. It has stopped raining, Kristy, and I 
have paid mamma’s debt.” 

“ No, indeed ! ” cried Kristy. “ You have 
told me lovely stories, and mamma owes me 
two to pay for them ! ” 

“ That’s a curious way of calculating,” said 
Mrs. Wilson, laughing; “do you expect to be 
paid twice for everything?” 


“MORE STORIES, PLEASE” 153 

“Yes; when it ’s stories/’ said Kristy. 

“ Kristy ’ll soon have to write stories for her- 
self, I think,” said her mother, smiling, “ when 
she has exhausted the stock of all her friends.” 

Kristy blushed, but did not confess that that 
was her pet ambition. 

“ Now, mamma, ” said Kristy that evening 
after supper was over, “ some more rainy day 
stories, please ! ” 

“Will you have them all at once ? ” asked 
mamma, taking up some fancy knitting she 
kept for evenings, “ or one at a time ? ” 

“ One at a time, please,” answered Kristy. 

“ Well ; get your work. How much did you 
do this afternoon ? ” 

Kristy looked guilty. “You know I just 
can’ t remember to knit when I ’m listening 
to a story. I — I — believe I did not knit 
once across.” 

Her mother laughed. “ The poor Barton 
baby ’ll go cold, I ’m afraid, if he waits for his 
carriage robe till you finish it. How would 
you like to knit him a pair of stockings ? Shall 
I set them up and give you a daily stint? ” 


154 KRISTY’S RAINY DAY PICNIC 

“ Ugh ! ” said Kristy. “ Please don’t talk of 
anything so dreadful ! You told me yourself 
how you hated it.” 

“ It ’s a very good plan, nevertheless,” said 
Mrs. Crawford. “ Perhaps it would have been 
wiser not to tell you about that.” 

“Now, mamma!” said Kristy reproach- 
fully. 

“ I think, ” mamma went on, “ that I shall 
have to make up for that story of a girl who 
did n’t like to work, — at least that kind of 
work,” — she corrected herself, “by telling 
you about a girl who worked enough for 
two.” 

“ Oh, oh ! ” cried Kristy, “ I ’m afraid 
that ’ll not be very interesting.” 

“ Well, you shall see,” said mamma, “ for 
I ’m going to tell you how she got up a whole 
Christmas tree alone, and made everything on 
it herself.” 

“ Oh ! ” said Kristy relieved, “ that ’ll be 
good, I know ; begin.” 

“Well, I’ll begin where the story begins, 
as I have heard May tell it, with a talk between 


A CHRISTMAS TREE 


155 


her sister and herself. One morning a little 
before Christmas the two girls got to talking 
about that happy time and the way it is cele- 
brated, and May listened eagerly to Lottie’s 
description of a tree she had at her aunt’s the 
year before.” 


CHAPTER XII 


LOTTIE’S CHRISTMAS TREE 

ce There ’s no use wishing for anything away 
out here in the woods,” said Lottie fretfully, 
rocking violently back and forth by the side 
of the bed. 

“ No, of course we could n’t have one, but 
I should like to see a Christmas tree before I 
die. It must be splendid ! ” 

And poor, sick May turned wearily on her 
pillow. 

“ You ’re not going to die, May,” said Lot- 
tie impatiently, “ and I hope you ’ll see lots 
of Christmas trees — if you don’t this year. 
It ’s your turn to go to Aunt Laura’s next.” 

May sighed. 

“ I ’m too tired, Lottie. I never shall go.” 

“ Of course you ’re tired,” said Lottie in the 
same fretful tone ; “ nothing to do, nothing 
to see, nothing to read — just lying on your 


I S’POSE IT’S WICKED 


157 


back, week after week, in this old log house. 
It’s enough to make anybody sick. I s’pose 
it’s awful wicked, but I think it’s just too 
bad that we two girls have to live in this 
mean old shanty, with nobody but stupid old 
Nancy ! ” 

“ Oh, Lottie,” said the sick girl anxiously, 
“ don’t forget father, and what a comfort we 
are to him.” 

“ You are, you mean,” interrupted Lottie. 

“ No, I mean you. I ’m an expense and care 
to him ; but what could he do without you ? 
And remember,” she went on softly, “ how he 
hated to bring us to this lonely little place, 
and wanted to put us in school, and leave us, 
but we begged him ” — 

“ Yes, I remember,” said Lottie regretfully, 
u and I am wicked as I can be to talk so ; but 
thinking about Aunt Laura’s tree, it did seem 
too bad you could n’t have one, too. You have 
so few pleasures.” 

“ Oh, I have lots of pleasures ! ” cried May 
eagerly. “ I love to lie here and look out into 
the woods, — the dear, sweet, quiet woods, — 


158 KRISTY’S RAINY DAY PICNIC 

and remember the nice times we used to have 
before I was sick ; and I like ” — 

“ You like some dinner by this time, I 
guess/’ said Nancy, coming in with her dinner 
nicely served on a tray. 

Lottie got up, went into the next room, 
threw an old shawl over her head, and stepped 
out of the side door into the woods, for the 
house had not been built long, and all the 
clearing was on the other side. 

Though it was winter, it was not very cold, 
and the woods were almost as attractive as in 
summer. 

Walking a few rods, Lottie sat down on her 
favorite seat, a fallen tree trunk covered with 
moss. 

“ I declare, it ’s too bad ! ” she began to her- 
self. “ I believe May is dying because it ’s so 
stupid here. I could ’most die myself. I won- 
der if I could n’t do something to amuse her. 
Couldn’t I buy something, or make some- 
thing,” she went on, slowly turning over in 
her mind all her resources. “ Let me see, — I 
have two dollars left. I wish I could buy her 


A MYSTERIOUS LETTER 


159 


a set of chessmen ! She and father play so much. 
Wait! wait!” she cried excitedly, jumping 
up and dancing around; “I have it ! I can 
make her a set like Kate Selden’s, or something 
like it, I know ! Oh, dear ! won’t that be splen- 
did ! How delighted she will be ! But where ’ll 
I get the figures ? ” 

She sat down again more soberly, and fell 
into a brown study. 

“My two dollars will buy enough china 
dolls, I guess, and I ’ll get Aunt Laura to send 
them to me by mail.” 

This was a bright thought, and the more 
she thought of it, the greater grew her plan. 
She remembered several things she could make, 
and before she went into the house, she even 
ventured to dream of a tree. 

That night a mysterious letter was written, 
the two dollars slipped in, sealed, and directed, 
ready to give to the postman, an old man who 
passed every day with mail for the village. 

Never did ten days seem so long to Lottie 
as that particular ten days which passed be- 
fore she got her answer. Every day, at the 


160 KRISTY’S RAINY DAY PICNIC 


postman’s hour, she ran up to the road and 
waited for him, all the time planning the 
wonderful things she would do. At last, one 
day, the old man stopped his horse, fumbled 
in his saddlebags, and brought out a package 
directed to her. 

She seized it, and ran off to open her trea- 
sure. What did the package contain? No- 
thing but twenty-eight china dolls, some silver 
and gilt paper, and some bits of bright silk. 

“ Auntie has got everything ! ” she ex- 
claimed joyfully ; “ and now I can go right 
to work.” 

Now the log house had but four rooms, — 
the living-room, where they ate, and where 
old Nancy cooked at a big cave of a fireplace, 
in which logs were burning from fall to spring ; 
the girls’ room, where May lay, which was 
also warmed by a big fireplace ; father’s room, 
and a room in the attic for Nancy. 

Lottie could not work in the cold, nor in 
May’s room, so she established herself in a 
warm corner of the living-room, far enough 
from Nancy’s dull eyes, and near a window. 


HOW SHE DID IT 


161 


Day after day she worked, making excuses to 
May for leaving her so much alone, and hid- 
ing her work before her father came in at 
night. 

I will tell you how she made the set of 
chessmen. First she hunted up a smooth, thin 
board, from which she cut, with her father’s 
saw, a square piece about twenty inches square. 
The middle of this board she laid out in 
blocks with a pencil and ruler, careful to 
make them exactly perfect. The blocks were 
two inches square and there were eight each 
way ; in fact, it was a copy of the chessboard 
her father had made. 

These squares she covered with gilt and 
silver paper alternately, covering the joinings 
with strips of very narrow gilt bordering. 
The edge of the board she covered with a 
strip of drab-colored cloth she found in the 
piece-trunk. 

The board being finished, — and it was 
really very pretty, — she had next to make the 
chessmen. For these she used the china dolls, 
the tallest of which was three inches high. 


162 KRISTY’S RAINY DAY PICNIC 

Half of the dolls were white and the other 
half black ; the white to wear blue and white, 
the black ones scarlet and drab. 

The dressing was a work of art, for she 
wished to make them look like the characters 
they represented. She looked through the 
picture-books in the house to see how kings 
and queens and knights and bishops were 
dressed. Pictures of kings and queens she 
found in a geography, knights in a volume of 
Shakespeare, and a bishop in an odd number 
of an old magazine. 

Then she went to work. The pawns were 
dressed as pages, the kings and queens in flow- 
ing robes, with crowns of gilt or silver paper, 
glued on, the knights in coats of mail, — 
strips of silver paper laid over one another like 
the shingles on a roof, — the bishops in long 
gowns, with mitre on the head, — all in the two 
colors of their respective sides. The four castles 
were made of pieces of gray sandpaper, glued 
into cylinder shape, with battlement-shaped 
strips around the top ; when glued on their 
standards, they looked like little stone castles. 


A GREAT SUCCESS 


163 


When they were all dressed, — and it took 
many days and much contriving, — Lottie 
found that few of them would stand up, and 
those which possessed the accomplishment were 
very tottlish, and fell down at the slightest 
provocation. 

That would never do, so she set her wits to 
work to provide standards. 

She took an old broom handle, and sawed it 
into thin slices. 

When she had thirty-two of these slices, she 
covered them neatly with pieces of old black 
broadcloth, glued on, over top, edge, and all. 
Then she dipped the feet of each china per- 
sonage into the hot, stiff glue, and held it in 
place till the glue set. 

They would stick nicely, and stand up as 
straight as any chessmen. 

Then she drew the long robes into folds, 
just touched with glue, and festooned to the 
standard so as not to get out of place. 

When the whole set was done, Lottie was 
delighted ; and, indeed, they were extremely 
pretty. 


164 KRISTY’S RAINY DAY PICNIC 


Every night, when May and her father 
would get out the old set, made of button 
moulds, with the name printed on with ink, 
Lottie would think what a surprise there 
would be. 

But she was not done with plans. 

May had a picture, a delicate pencil-sketch 
of her mother, the only likeness they had. It 
was the sick girl’s treasure. Too careful of it 
to allow it to hang on the wall and get soiled, 
she kept it in an old book under her pillow, 
and to take it out and look at it every day 
was her delight. Now Lottie planned to make 
a frame for this treasure. 

On pretense of looking at it, she took its di- 
mensions, and then went to work. Cutting a 
piece of cardboard of the right size, she pro- 
ceeded to cover it with little bunches of grasses 
she had dried in the summer, standing up 
in vases so that they drooped gracefully. At 
the top, where the stems of the grasses met, 
she placed a bunch of bitter-sweet berries, the 
brilliant red and orange just the needed bit 
of color to perfect the whole. 


MAKING DECORATIONS 


165 


It was laid away in a chest with the chess- 
men, ready to receive the picture. 

And now she began to plan for the adorn- 
ment of the tree. 

Candles were the greatest anxiety, but with 
the help of Nancy, she made a few large ones 
into twenty as neat and pretty little “dips” as 
you ever saw. 

Walnuts she ornamented with gilt bands 
and loops to be hung by; apples, the reddest 
and whitest, were similarly prepared ; tiny cor- 
nucopias, made of white letter paper trimmed 
with bits of gilt, filled with popped corn and 
meats of butternuts nicely picked out ; dainty 
baskets made of old match-boxes, covered with 
gay paper, and with festooned handles ; gor- 
geous pink and white roses of paper ; tiny cakes 
of maple sugar, delicious sticks and twists of 
molasses candy ; dainty drop cakes and kisses 
smuggled into the oven on baking-day, — all 
were secreted in the wonderful chest in the attic. 

At last came the day before Christmas, and 
Lottie took the axe and went into the woods, 
for this woods-girl could not only bake cakes, 


166 KRISTY’S RAINY DAY PICNIC 

dress dolls, and saw broomsticks, but she cbuld 
even chop down a tree, if it was small. 

She found a beautiful spruce tree, which had 
evidently been growing all these years on pur- 
pose for a Christmas tree, so straight it stood, 
and so wide and strong were its branches. 

Cutting it down, and dragging it home 
over the snow, Lottie presented herself at 
the kitchen door, to the astonished eyes of 
Nancy. 

“ Now, Nancy, don ’t you say a word to May. 
I’m going to surprise her.” 

“ ’Deed ’n I should think you’d surprise her, 
could she see you dragging that big log into 
the house ! ” 

“Well, you help me in with it, for I don’t 
want to break its branches.” 

“ All on my clean floor ! ” cried Nancy, in 
dismay. 

“ Yes, quick ! ” said Lottie ; “it won’t muss, 
you ’ll see.” 

Nancy helped her, and the tree yielded to 
fate and four strong arms, and went in. 

It did look big, and when Lottie stood 


DRESSING THE TREE 


167 


it up in a tub, it nearly touched the wall. 
Around the trunk of the tree, to steady 
it, she packed sticks of wood till it stood 
firm. Then she covered the whole, tub, wood, 
and floor around, with great sheets of green 
moss, which she had pulled out from under the 
snow the day before. 

She got the tree in early in the morning, and 
every moment she could steal from May through 
the day she spent in filling it, hanging on her 
treasures, fastening her candles by sticking 
large pins up through the small branches, and 
standing the candles on them. 

The chessboard stood prominently on the 
moss at the foot of the tree, and the frame, 
with its picture, hung from one branch. 

When her father came home, he found sup- 
per served, as a Christmas eve treat, Lottie said, 
in May’s room, and adroitly he was kept out 
of the mysterious room. 

When he was finishing his last cup of tea, 
and was talking with May, Lottie slipped out, 
lighted a long taper, and in five minutes had 
the tree all ablaze with light. 


168 KRISTY’S RAINY DAY PICNIC 


“ Father,” she said, quietly opening the 
door, “will you bring May out to her Christ- 
mas eve?” 

“ What ! ” said father. 

But mechanically he took in his arms 
the light form of his daughter, and followed 
Lottie. At the door he stood transfixed, and 
May could not speak or breathe for wonder. 

That one moment paid Lottie for all her 
hard work, but Nancy ’s “ Do tell ! ” as she 
peeped over their shoulders and saw the illu- 
minated tree, broke the spell. 

Father broke out with tears in his eyes, 
“ Why, Lottie ! ” and May cried ecstatically: 
“How wonderful! how lovely! is it a dream? 
is it fairies? ” 

“ No, May,” Lottie whispered, coming up 
softly behind her, “ it ? s only a Christmas tree, 
and it’s yours ! ” 

“ Mine ! and you made it ? ” exclaimed May, 
understanding at once Lottie’s intense occupa- 
tion of the last month. 

“ Who helped you, my daughter ? ” 

“No one, father,” said Lottie. 


THE WONDERFUL TREE 


169 


“ W ell, it ’s wonderful, really wonderful. 
How could you do it all alone? I can’t un- 
derstand it ! What a little, smothered vol- 
cano you must have been all these weeks ! ” 
u I could hardly keep from telling,” said 
Lottie, with happy eyes. 

But now May asked to be carried nearer, 
and each treasure was examined. The in- 
genious chessmen were praised, and the frame 
brought a shower of happy tears from May. 

Then there was a surprise for father, for 
Lottie had found time to make him a nice, 
warm muffler, and May had knit him a pair of 
mittens, which she now brought out. And 
Nancy was not forgotten, for Lottie had made 
her an apron, and May had made her a tatting 
collar. Neither was Lottie neglected, for May 
had netted her a beautiful new net. 

And father now drew out of his pocket 
a letter which he had received from Aunt 
Laura that morning, on opening which, two 
new ten-dollar bills were found, presents from 
Aunt Laura to the girls, “ to buy some keep- 
sake with,” the letter said. 


170 KRISTY’S RAINY DAY PICNIC 


“ And I was so cross, thinking I should 
not have any Christmas,” said May repent- 
antly. 

“ And I was so sad, thinking how different 
would have been my daughters’ Christmas if 
their dear mother had been with us,” said 
father softly. 

“ And you, Lottie — like a dear, old darling 
as you are,” said May, giving her a spas- 
modic hug, “ were all the time working away 
with all your might that I might have the 
most splendid Christmas tree! I don’t be- 
lieve Aunt Laura’s is half so pretty ! ” 

“ It must be fun to dress up a tree yourself,” 
said Kristy, when the story was ended. 

“ And still more,” said her mother, “ to get 
it up, as Lottie did, out of almost nothing. 
It ’s easy enough to go out and buy enough to 
cover a tree, but it ’s a very different affair to 
make the presents one’s self. 

“ Another unusual Christmas celebration 
that I have heard about was even more strange 
than Lottie’s, though several people took part 


A CHRISTMAS CELEBRATION 


171 


in getting it up. It took place in a baggage- 
car, ” went on Mrs. Crawford. 

“ In a baggage-car ? ” said Kristy. 

“ Yes; attached to a train that was snowed 
up in Minnesota one winter. It was the time 
that Ethel Jervis was ill, — you remember, — 
and her mother took her to Minnesota for her 
health.” 

“ She took Harry, too, did n’t she ? ” asked * 
Kristy. 

“ Yes ; she could n’t leave him very well, 
so he was with them.” 

“ Tell me about it ! ” said Kristy. 


CHAPTER XIII 


CHRISTMAS IN A BAGGAGE-CAR 

Mrs. Jervis and her two children, Ethel and 
Harry, were on their way to spend Christmas 
with the grandmother, who lived in a small 
town in Minnesota, three or four hours’ jour- 
ney from Minneapolis, where they were spend- 
ing the winter. There had been a good deal of 
snow, but they did not think much about it, for 
they were not used to Minnesota snowstorms. 

It was getting late in the afternoon, and 

they were tired and anxious to reach B 

before night, when the train — after a good 
deal of puffing, and backing, and jerking for- 
ward and back — stopped short. 

Several of the men went out to see what 
was the matter. Soon they began to come 
back, and one, whose seat was next to Mrs. 
Jervis, said, as he took his seat, “ It does n’t 
look much like getting to B to-night.” 


BLOCKED BY SNOW 173 

“ What is the trouble?” asked Mrs. Jervis. 

“ Tremendous drifts in the cut,” answered 
Mr. Camp. a Snow falling faster than ever, 
and wind piling it up faster than a thousand 
men could shovel it out. This cut is a regular 
snow-trap.” 

“ Can’t the engine plow through?” asked 
Mrs. Jervis anxiously. 

“ That ’s what has been tried,” said the 
man ; “ but the snow is higher than the smoke- 
stack, and packed so tight it ’s almost solid. 
We may be here a week, for all I see, unless 
the storm holds up and we get help.” 

“ Oh, mother ! ” wailed Ethel, “ shan’t we 
get to grandmother’s for Christmas ? ” 

“I hope so, Ethel! ” said Mrs. Jervis sooth- 
ingly. “ It ’s three days to Christmas, you 
know, and a good deal may happen in three 
days. Could n’t we go back ? ” she asked her 
neighbor. “ If we could get back to Minnea- 
polis it would be better than staying here,” and 
she glanced anxiously at her daughter, whose 
wide, staring eyes were fixed on Mr. Camp, as 
if he held her fate in hishands. 


174 KRISTY’S RAINY DAY PICNIC 

“ They tried a while ago, you remember,” he 
said ; “ but the cut we passed through a mile 
back is now as bad as this. The fact is, we are 
between two cuts, and for all I see are prison- 
ers here till we get help from outside.” 

Mrs. Jervis heard this with dismay, and 
Ethel with despair. She buried her face in 
her mother’s lap, and shook all over with the 
violence of her sobs. 

Mrs. Jervis was distressed, for her daughter 
was just recovering from a serious illness, and 
she feared the consequences of such violent 
emotion. Her mind worked quickly ; if she 
could only get Ethel interested in something, 
— but what could she do shut up in a car ? She 
spoke again to her neighbor. 

“ Did n’t you say there were some travel- 
ers in the next car not so comfortable as we 
are?” 

“ Yes, ma’am,” he answered; “ a mother 
and three children, one a baby, going to Dal- 
ton, where the father has just got work. They 
look poor, and are not very warmly clad. The 
conductor says he can’t keep two cars warm ; 


A BABY APPEARS 


175 


fuel is getting scarce ; and he ’s going to bring 
them in here.” 

“ Do you hear that, Ethel ? ” said her mo- 
ther anxiously ; “ there ’s a baby coming into 
our car.” 

Ethel was usually very fond of babies, but 
now she could think of nothing but her disap- 
pointment, and only an impatient jerk of her 
shoulders showed that she heard. 

At this moment the door opened, and the 
conductor appeared, followed by the few pas- 
sengers from the other car, among them the 
shivering family with the baby. The mother 
looked pale and tired, and sank into the first 
seat. 

Mrs. Jervis rose, obliging Ethel to sit up, 
and went toward the weary woman. 

“ Let me take the baby a while,” she said 
pleasantly ; “ you look tired out.” 

Tears came into the eyes of the poor 
mother. 

“ Oh, thank you,” she said; “the baby is 
fretting for her milk ; she won’t eat anything 
I can get for her.” 


176 KRISTY’S RAINY DAY PICNIC 

“Of course she won’t/’ said Mrs. Jervis, 
as she lifted the baby, who, though poorly 
dressed, was clean and sweet ; “ sensible baby ! 
we must try to get milk for her ! ” She turned 
to the conductor. 

“ Is n’t there a farmhouse somewhere about 
here where some benevolent gentleman might 
get milk for a suffering baby?” and she 
looked with a smile at the passenger who had 
been giving the unwelcome news. 

“ No,” said the conductor, “ I think not 
any near enough to be reached in this storm ; 
but I have an idea that there ’s a case of con- 
densed milk in the baggage-car ; I ’ll see,” 
and he hurried out. 

“ That ’s a providential baggage-car,” said 
Mrs. Jervis. “ How much we might have suf- 
fered but for its fortunate stores ! ” 

“Yes,” replied her neighbor gravely; “a 
fast of a week wouldn’t be very comfort- 
able.” 

“ And jack rabbits are tiptop ! ” burst in 
Harry Jervis. His mother smiled. 

“ I ’m glad you like them, Harry ; I should 


FINGERS BEFORE FORKS 


177 


like tliem better bounding away over the prai- 
ries on their own long legs than served up half 
cooked, on a newspaper for plates, — to be 
eaten with fingers, too,” she added. 

“ Fingers were made before forks ! ” said 
Harry triumphantly, repeating an old saying 
which had been quoted quite often in that car 
of late. 

“ Your fingers were not, Harry !” said Mrs. 
Jervis, laughing. “ However, we have cause to 
be thankful, even for jack rabbits eaten with 
our fingers.” 

At this moment entered a brakeman with a 
can of condensed milk. “ The conductor sent 
this to you, ma’am,” he said. 

“But it isn’t open !” said Mrs. Jervis in 
dismay ; “and I did n’t think to bring a can- 
opener. If I had only known of this picnic- 
party, I might have provided myself.” 

“ I ’ll open it,” said her neighbor, taking 
out a pocket knife ; “ I ’ve opened many a can 
in my travels on the plains.” 

“ Don’t take off the top,” said Mrs. Jervis. 
“ Make two holes in the cover.” He looked 


178 KRISTY’S RAINY DAY PICNIC 

up in surprise. She went on : “ One to let out 
the milk, and the other to let in the air so that 
it can get out.” 

“Well, if that isn’t an idea!” said the 
man, a broad grin spreading over his face. 
“ It takes a woman to think of that contriv- 
ance ! ” 

“You see,” said Mrs. Jervis, “that keeps 
the milk in the can clean, and it pours out as 
well as if the whole top was off.” 

“ Sure ! ” said the man; “ I ’ll never forget 
that little trick ; thank you, ma’am ! ” 

Mrs. Jervis smiled. “You’re quite welcome,” 
she said, as she proceeded to dilute the milk 
with water from the cooler, and to warm the 
mixture on the stove, using her own silver 
traveling-cup for the purpose. 

While she was doing this, she had put the 
baby on Ethel’s lap, saying quietly, “You hold 
her a minute till I get the milk ready.” 

Ethel half grudgingly took the feebly 
wailing baby ; but when the milk was warmed 
and the hungry little creature quietly fell 
asleep in her arms, she showed no desire to 


THE BABY ASLEEP 


179 


give her up. Mrs. Jervis, having procured a 
pillow from the porter, — for this was a sleep- 
ing-car, — laid the sleeping infant on the seat 
opposite her own. 

Meanwhile, the idea she had been all this 
time seeking — the plan for giving Ethel some- 
thing to think of besides herself — had come 
to her, and she now suggested it to her daugh- 
ter, who had stopped crying, though she still 
looked very unhappy. 

“ Ethel,” she said, “ did you notice those 
poor children back there ? ” 

“ No,” said Ethel indifferently. 

“Well,” said her mother, “ I wish you ’d go 
and tell the mother that the baby is sleeping 
comfortably, and I ’ll look after her.” 

Ethel was accustomed to mind, and though 
she looked as if she did n’t fancy the errand, 
she rose and slowly walked through the car to 
the back seats where the strangers were seated, 
delivered her message, and returned. 

“ They don’t look very comfortable, do 
they ? ” said Mrs. Jervis. 

“ No, indeed ! ” said Ethel with some inter- 


180 KRISTY’S RAINY DAY PICNIC 


est; “that girl had a little, old shawl pinned 
on, and looked half frozen at that.” 

“ I don’t suppose they have ever been 
really comfortable,” went on Mrs. Jervis. “I 
should like to fix them all up warm and nice 
for once in their lives.” 

Ethel did not reply, but she was thinking. 

“I wonder if they were going anywhere 
for Christmas,” she said slowly. 

“ They look as if they did not know what 
Christmas is,” answered her mother. “ I don’t 
believe they ever had one.” 

“ It would be fun to fix up a tree for them,” 
said Ethel, who had enjoyed helping to ar- 
range a Christmas celebration the preceding 
year in an orphan asylum ; “ but of course no 
one can do anything shut up in this old car ! ” 

“ I ’m not so sure about that,” said Mrs. 
Jervis ; “ a good deal can be done by willing 
hands.” 

“ I don’t see what ! ” said Ethel. 

“Well,” said her mother, “you could at 
least make the girl a rag-doll like those you 
made for the orphans last winter.” 


MAKING A RAG-DOLL 181 

u What could I make it of ? ” asked Ethel 
somewhat scornfully. 

“ I have an idea/’ said Mrs. Jervis. “ I 
think I can get something from the porter.” 

Like most persons who set out with deter- 
mination, Mrs. Jervis overcame all obstacles. 
With the consent of the conductor, who 
assumed the responsibility for the Company, 
she bought of the porter a clean sheet, and a 
towel with a gay border, and returned to her 
seat. Out of her traveling-bag she took sew- 
ing implements, and in a short time Ethel 
was busily engaged in fashioning a rag-doll. 
She rolled up a long strip of the clean cotton 
for the doll’s body, sewing it tightly in place, 
and made a similar but much smaller roll for 
the arms, which she sewed on to the body in 
proper position. She marked the features of 
the face with a black lead pencil, and then 
dressed it in a strip of the towel, leaving the 
red border as a trimming around the hem of 
the dress, and a narrow strip of the same gay 
border for a sash, which was tied in a fine 
bow at the back. On the head, to conceal the 


182 KRISTY’S RAINY DAY PICNIC 

raw edges of the cotton, she made a tiny hood 
of another piece of the red border, and though 
you might not think it, it was really a very 
presentable doll. 

Meanwhile the idea had spread among the 
passengers, and other hands were busy with 
the same purpose. One elderly lady, who had 
been occupying her time knitting with red 
wool a long, narrow strip intended to make a 
stripe in a large afghan, deliberately raveled 
out the whole, and, bringing out of her bag 
a pair of fine needles, set up some mittens for 
the cold-looking red hands of the boy. 

Another lady passenger produced a small 
shoulder shawl, which she proceeded to make 
— with the help of Mrs. Jervis’s needles and 
thread — into a warm hood for the little girl. 
Another lady made of an extra wrap she car- 
ried an ample cloak for the baby, and Mrs. 
Jervis resolved to give the thinly dressed 
mother a large cape she had brought in case 
they should ride the last two miles of their 
journey in an open sleigh in a snowstorm. 

The whole carload, with nothing to oc- 


THE MEN HELPED 


183 


cupy^tliem, soon caught the enthusiasm; and 
before the day was over, nearly every one was 
doing what could be done with such limited 
means to make a pleasant Christmas for the 
little family occupying so quietly the back 
section in the car, and feeling so out of place 
among the well-to-do passengers. 

Not only were articles for their comfort made, 
hut toys for the children. Many a man, in the 
intervals of shoveling snow, at which each man 
took his turn, called up the resources of boy- 
hood, and whittled precious things out of wood; 
a whistle and a toy sled for the boy ; a cradle 
made of a cigar box, with rockers nailed on 
with pins, for the girl, and fitted with bedding 
from her mother’s sheet by Ethel, with a piece 
of the shoulder shawl for coverlid. 

Even Harry wanted to help, and begged his 
mother for an empty spool, out of which he 
could make a real top which would spin. Mrs. 
Jervis had no empty spool, but she took the 
largest one she had, wound off the thread on 
a card, and gave it to him, and he whittled 
out a beautiful top. 


184 KRISTY’S RAINY DAY PICNIC 


All these things could be done in the same 
car with the family, for they were very shy, 
and kept strictly to the last compartment, 
where the conductor had placed them. 

As Christmas day drew near, the question 
of a tree began to be considered, for Ethel 
could not entertain the idea of Christmas 
without one. She consulted the porter, who 
entered into the spirit of the thing warmly, and 
as he had noticed some trees not far back, near 
the track, he managed to cut off a large branch 
from one. Shaking it free from the snow, 
he set it up in a box, under Ethel’s directions, 
making it stand steadily upright with chunks 
of coal packed in the box around it, and it 
really looked something like a tree, though 
it was entirely bare of leaves, for it was not 
an evergreen. 

The baggage-car was decided upon for the 
celebration, and all day before Christmas Ethel 
and Harry, as well as most of the passengers 
by turns, were very busy there. Ethel covered 
the box of coal with the remains of the sheet ; 
candles for the tree, with all their ingenuity, 


JACK RABBITS FOR SUPPER 


185 


they were unable to manage, but a fine effect 
was produced by a brilliant red lantern, which 
a brakeman lent for the occasion, placed in 
among the branches. 

All the gifts — and they were surprisingly 
numerous — were bung about the tree, and 
the bare spaces filled up with paper ladders 
and rings of dancing dolls and long curling tas- 
sels and fringes, all of which Ethel cut with 
the scissors out of newspapers. These last 
decorations were added with locked doors, only 
the porter being allowed to see them. 

It was really a very effective show, though 
so odd, and after the passengers had enjoyed 
their evening meal of jack rabbits roasted be- 
fore the fire, with dry crackers for bread, and 
water to drink, they were all invited by the 
smiling colored porter to proceed to the bag- 
gage-car. 

The Grey family, for whom all this had been 
done, were gallantly escorted by the porter him- 
self, who even carried the baby, now bright 
and smiling on its diet of condensed milk. 

The baggage-car presented a gay appearance, 


186 KRISTY’S RAINY DAY PICNIC 


brilliantly lighted by many brakeman’s lanterns. 
Trunks were stowed away in one end, except 
those needed for seats, and in a few moments 
the women and children were seated, while all 
the men of the train stood around behind them, 
even to the weary-looking engineer who had 
been working so hard these two days and 
nights for their release. 

The surprise and delight of the Grey chil- 
dren knew no bounds ; and when they found 
that all these treasures were for them, their 
ecstasies were beyond control; they laughed 
and shouted almost like other children, as they 
had never in their lives done before. 

As for the mother, she was simply overcome ; 
tears of happiness ran down her face, and as 
each gift was placed in her lap, she could only 
grasp the hand of the giver, — she could not 
speak. 

And what of Ethel ! No one would have 
known her for the unhappy-faced maiden who 
had so lamented their plight. All this time 
she had been the moving spirit in the whole 
matter. She had worked hard herself, and in- 


BEST GIFT OF ALL 


187 


spired others to work, too. She was rosy and 
happy on this evening, her eyes bright and 
shining ; and when her mother placed in her 
hand her own Christmas gift, which she had 
been secretly carrying to grace the tree at 
Grandma's, her happiness overflowed, and she 
exclaimed : — 

“ Why ! I almost forgot the party to-night 
at Grandma’s ! ” 

At the close of the evening, as the party 
were about to return to their car, the conduc- 
tor rapped for silence, and announced — as 
the best gift of the evening — that help had 
come from outside and cut through the drifts, 
so that before morning they would be able to 
take up their journey. 

It was a very happy-faced Ethel who, the 
next morning, jumped out of the sleigh which 
had brought them up from the station, and 
ran to kiss her grandmother and aunts and 
cousins, brought together from great distances 
for the happy Christmas time. And after all, 
she did n’t miss the tree, either, for, although 
Christmas had passed, all the party begged to 


188 KRISTY’S RAINY DAY PICNIC 

defer the tree till the Jervis family arrived ; 
and there it stood at that moment, all ready 
for lighting. 

Nothing of this was told to the Jervis chil- 
dren, however, till after supper was over, when 
Grandmother invited the whole company to go 
into the room where it stood, lighted from the 
top twig to the pedestal it stood on, and hung 
full of beautiful gifts. 

“ That ’s a nice story,” said Kristy ; “ it was 
lovely of them to save the tree for Ethel. It 
is n’t bedtime yet,” she went on suggestively, 
as her mother busied herself with her work. 

“ No ; it is n’t bedtime ; but you must 
have had enough stories for one day, Kristy.” 

“ No, indeed ! I never have enough ! ” said 
Kristy warmly. 

“ W ell, here ’s another, then, and it ’s true, 
too.” And Mrs. Crawford began. 


CHAPTER XIY 

HOW A BEAR CAME TO SCHOOL ' 

One warm spring morning, near the town o£ 

A , away off in the edge of the deep woods, 

a bear awoke from his long winter sleep, 
came out of his den under the roots of a great 
fallen tree, stretched his half-asleep limbs, 
opened wide his great mouth in a long, long 
yawn, and then all at once found that he was 
ravenously hungry ; and no wonder ! for he 
had n’t had a mouthful to eat since he went 
to sleep for the winter, months before. 

As soon as he was wide awake, and his legs 
began to feel natural, he started out to find 
something to eat. There were no berries in 
the woods yet, no green things that he liked 
to eat, and, in fact, there was a very poor 
prospect for breakfast. 

Long he wandered about in the woods, find- 
ing nothing, and getting more hungry every 


190 KRISTY’S RAINY DAY PICNIC 


minute; and at last he started for the few 
scattering houses of the village, where he had 
sometimes found food when it was scarce in 
the woods. 

He did n’t like to go near the houses of men, 
for he generally got hurt when he did so ; 
but he was by this time so very hungry that 
he almost forgot that all men were his enemies. 

Shuffling quietly along on his soft-padded 
feet, he came to a little house standing all by 
itself in the edge of the woods. All was quiet 
about it, except a curious sort of humming 
noise, which may have reminded him of bees 
and honey that he liked so well. 

Nearer and nearer he came, snuffing the 
breeze as he came, till he reached the open 
door of the little house. Into this he thrust 
his great head, and surely now he smelled 
something to eat. 

It was a schoolhouse, though he did n’t 
know it. 

At this moment a little girl looked up from 
her hook, and a wild scream rent the air. 

“ There ’s a bear coming in ! ” she cried. 


THE BEAR CAME IN 


191 


Instantly all was confusion; books were 
dropped, school was forgotten, screams and 
shouts filled the air, while the teacher — a 
stranger in that wild country — turned white. 

Some of the bigger boys ran towards the door, 
shouting and waving their arms to frighten the 
great beast away, but he had smelled the din- 
ner baskets, ranged in the passageway, and he 
was far too hungry to mind the shouting of 
boys. The next moment he was fairly in the 
passage, and there was nothing to prevent his 
coming into the schoolroom. 

Now there is a very wrong impression 
abroad about bears. Most people — especially 
children — think that a bear is always roaming 
around seeking some one to devour ; while the 
truth is that, unless madly hungry or badly 
treated, a bear will always avoid a human being. 
In fact, hunters call them cowardly, though a 
more truthful word would be peaceable. In 
that schoolroom, however, a bear was the great- 
est terror in the world. 

There was nothing in the way of a door 
to keep him out of the room, but there was a 


192 KRISTY’S RAINY DAY PICNIC 


great attraction for him in the doughnuts and 
pieces of pie and cake and apples and other 
good things he smelled in the dinner baskets, 
and he set at once to turning over the contents, 
and eating whatever pleased his fancy. 

After her momentary faintness, Miss Brown 
— ; the young teacher — roused herself to see 
what could be done to protect her charges. 
There was no door between the room and the 
passage, though there was a suitable opening 
for one. Glancing around the room, she saw 
but one thing to do, — to barricade that open- 
ing. 

Trying to quiet the screams and tears of the 
children huddled around her, she spoke hur- 
riedly to the biggest boys. 

“ Boys, we must barricade the doorway while 
he is busy with the baskets. Bring up the 
benches as quick as you can ! ” 

All fell to work, and soon benches were piled 
from the floor to the top of the doorway ; but 
they were so unsteady that one could see that 
one good push of the big fellow would throw 
them all down. 


BARRICADING THE DOOR 


193 


“ More ! ” said Miss Brown ; “ we must brace 
these up.” 

So other benches were placed against them 
in a way to brace them, and when all in the 
room were used, a tolerably steady wall was 
made, though of course there were plenty of 
openings between the benches through which 
they could see and be seen. 

“If he tries to push them down,” said Miss 
Brown with white lips, “ we must all throw 
ourselves against these braces to keep them 
firm. I think we can keep him till help 
comes.” 

The question of help was a serious one. 
The schoolhouse was placed on the edge of 
a bluff where the ground dropped suddenly 
many feet, and strangely enough, all the 
windows were on that side, so that no one 
could climb out of a window, and, what was 
worse, those inside could not attract attention 
if any one should pass. The windows looked 
only into the deep woods. 

All this became plain to Miss Brown, as she 
looked around to see what were their chances 


194 KRISTY’S RAINY DAY PICNIC 


of escape. The only hope was that the bear 
would get enough to eat and go out of his 
own accord. In this hope she calmed down, 
and tried to reduce her pupils to order. 

Order, however, was not to be thought of. 
To the terror of the children was soon added 
their dismay at the havoc the bear was making. 
One after another basket was turned over and 
its contents rolled out on the floor, while he 
contentedly feasted himself on the food. The 
children could not take their eyes from him, 
and every time he turned his eyes towards them, 
they screamed and tried to hide behind Miss 
Brown. 

When at last Bruin had emptied the baskets, 
and evidently filled himself with the good 
country lunches, he prepared to take a nap, 
and rolling his great body over in the small 
space he hit the open door, and, to the horror 
of Miss Brown, pushed it shut with a bang that 
latched it, and made him a prisoner as well as 
themselves ! 

Now indeed the stoutest heart turned weak. 

“ Good Heavens, boys ! ” said Miss Brown 


A DREARY PROSPECT 


195 


to the two or three older pupils, “ what can 
we do ? ” 

“ I don’t see as we can do anything except 
keep him out of here till men come to look 
for us/’ said the oldest boy, who was about 
fourteen, and used to the ways of the coun- 
try. 

“ And that won’t be,” said Miss Brown, 
“till they are alarmed because we don’t get 
home.” 

“ Yes,” said the boy ; “ not before five or 
six o’clock. W e ’re often that late getting 
home.” 

This was a dreary prospect, indeed, and wails 
and cries began again to fill the room. Miss 
Brown saw that she must rouse herself and 
quell the panic before it got beyond bounds. 

She thought quickly, then said, quietly as she 
could, though her voice trembled at first: — 

“ Children, shall I tell you a story ? ” 

Story is a magic word to a child, and in a 
moment the smaller ones were camped down 
on the floor around her — having no benches 
to sit on — while Miss Brown racked her brain 


196 KRISTY’S RAINY DAY PICNIC 


to think of stirring incidents to keep them in- 
terested. 

Story after story fell from her lips ; lunch 
time came — but there were no lunches. Miss 
Brown struggled on ; words came slowly, — 
her lips and throat were dry, — she sipped a 
little water and struggled on. 

All sorts of possible and impossible adven- 
tures she related ; she told strange facts of 
history with the wildest fancies of romance- 
makers ; fairies and pirates, and queens and 
beggar girls, in one mad medley. She never 
in after years could recall anything that passed 
her lips in those terrible hours. 

Some of the smaller children, worn out with 
crying, fell asleep, and as the hours passed and 
twilight stole over the world, hope began to 
revive ; surely the fathers of the village must 
come to seek their children. 

The bear still slept, but they dared not make 
much noise for fear of arousing him. Twilight 
deepened and night came on, — still no rescue. 

Men were out seeking them ; all the village, 
in fact, but when they tried the schoolhouse 


ALL NIGHT PRISONERS 


197 


door and could not open it, they concluded 
that school had been dismissed, and turned 
away to search the woods, — the constant ter- 
ror of the village parents. 

Happily the little party of prisoners in the 
schoolroom did not know this, or they would 
have despaired. 

A search was started in the woods ; lanterns 
flashed through all the paths and byways 
between the trees; men called, and women 
silently cried, but of course no trace of the 
lost was found. 

All night this was kept up, while, on the floor 
of the schoolroom, all but the two or three older 
ones, with the completely exhausted teacher, 
slept in what comfortless attitude they might. 

Towards morning a bright thought came to 
Miss Brown. “ They must think we have left 
the schoolhouse,” she thought; “ and we must 
contrive to let them know where we are. 
When the bear wakes up he will be hungry 
again,” — with a shudder. Then the bright 
thought came, “ Let us make a fire in the 
stove ; the smoke will be a sign.” 


198 KRISTY’S RAINY DAY PICNIC 


There was no wood, of course, it being too 
warm for a fire; but there were some papers 
and, if need be, books — and it was the first 
breath of hope. 

“ But is there a match in the house?” was 
the appalling thought that paralyzed her. She 
asked the boys. One thought he had some, and 
after emptying his pockets of the miscellaneous 
collection that usually fills a boy’s pocket, suc- 
ceeded in fishing out two worn and draggled- 
looking matches which looked doubtful about 
lighting. 

Miss Brown took them carefully, prepared 
some torn paper, and drew a match across the 
stove ; it sputtered — and flashed — and went 
out. A cry of horror escaped her lips as, shel- 
tering it in her hand, she tried the second. It 
burned and the paper was lighted, and in a 
moment the stove was in a glow. 

“ Miss Brown,” whispered one of the older 
scholars, “ I ’ve heard of bears being driven 
off by fire ; we might light a stick and try it, 
if he wakes up,” nodding towards the still 
sleeping Bruin. 


THE BEAR ASLEEP 


199 


66 Thank you — that is worth thinking of,” 
said Miss Brown. 

Now the smoke began to pour out of the 
chimney, and one of the tired men who had 
been wandering the woods all night saw it. 

He uttered a shout, “ They ’re in the school- 
house ! ” 

Soon fifty men, on their way home in de- 
spair at finding no trace, were about him. 

“ But the door is locked,” said one man. 
“ I tried that the first thing.” 

“ Well, somebody is there ! ” said one ; “ and 
we better break the door in, and see who it 
is.” 

They went to the door and knocked, and 
then pounded, while those inside shouted and 
cried. At last they were heard, and, coming as 
near the back windows as they could get, they 
asked the reason of this strange performance. 

“I say ! ” began the man standing on the 
edge of the bluff, “ who ’s in there ? ” 

“We ’re all in here,” was the answer ; “ and 
we can’t get out because a big bear is in the 
passageway.” 


200 KRISTY’S RAINY DAY PICNIC 


“ Why did you lock the door?” was the 
next question. 

“We didn’t. The bear rolled against it. 
He ’s there now. You can’t open it.” 

The good news was quickly carried to the 
waiting men, and an effort was made to burst 
in the door, several of the men being pro- 
vided with guns for their night in the woods. 

But Bruin was too heavy for the united ef- 
forts, and at last they decided to shoot through 
the door. 

Calling directions to those inside to go close 
to the wall on the north side so as not to be 
in danger from any stray bullet, the men be- 
gan shooting through the door. 

It was not long before the bear found it too 
hot for comfort, and slowly rose to his feet and 
started for the barricade of benches, now left 
without a guard. 

At that instant the door yielded and burst 
open, and men and shots and bear and bas- 
kets and all came in a mad medley together. 

Poor Bruin’s troubles were soon over; he 
paid for his breakfast with his life. 


IN A DEAD FAINT 


201 


When all was ended, and the men had a 
chance to look around and see the barricade, 
and turned to thank Miss Brown for her hero- 
ism in protecting the children, she was found 
in a dead faint on the floor. 

It was weeks before she recovered her 
strength and her voice, after that terrible night, 
and the schoolroom — put in fresh order, with 
a door between it and the passage, a window 
cut through the side of the building, and a 
big dinner bell provided to ring when help 
was needed — was opened again for study. 

As her mother paused, Kristy drew a deep 
sigh. “ I ’m so glad it ended well ; I love to 
have stories end well. ,, 

"Well,” said her mother, looking at the 
clock, " I ’ll tell you one more that I think 
ends very well indeed, for it taught — but” — 
she interrupted herself, — "I won’t tell you the 
end before the beginning; you shall decide 
whether it ends well.” 


CHAPTER XV 


HOW LETTIE HAD HER OWN WAY 

“ I just wish I could do as I ’ve a mind to for 
once in my life ! ” said Lettie Glover crossly, 
when her mother refused to allow her to carry 
out a plan she had made. “ I never can do any- 
thing I want to,” she went on. “ I ’ve heard that 
stepmothers were horrid, but I believe real 
mothers are just as bad ! ” and she flounced 
out of the room. 

“Letitia!” called her mother sternly, as she 
was about to slam the door after her, “ come 
back ! ” 

She turned. “ What do you want ? ” she 
snapped. 

Mrs. Glover was very pale. Lettie had 
never seen her look so, and in spite of her 
anger she was frightened. 

“ I think you need a lesson, my daughter,” 
she said quietly, speaking evidently with diffi- 


HOW LETTIE HAD HER OWN WAY 203 

culty, almost in gasps. “ I will let you try 
your plan ; you may do exactly as you choose 
for twenty-four hours ; I shall not see you 
again till it is over/’ and, rising, she went to 
her own room, and locked the door. 

Lettie stood as if stunned ; she remembered, 
suddenly, what the doctor had said, that her 
mother’s health was precarious, that she must 
not be agitated ; and a feeling of dismay rushed 
over her ; but a thought of what her mother 
had refused her returned, and she hardened 
herself again. 

“ I don’t believe what the old doctor said, 
anyway,” she muttered; “and I ’ll have a good 
time for once ! Oh ! won’t I ! ” as the thought 
of what she would do came over her. 

“ In the first place,” she thought, “ of 
course I ’ll go on Stella’s moonlight excursion 
to-night; mother’s objections are nonsense. I 
know Stella’s friends are a little wild ; but 
they ’re awfully jolly all the same, and I know 
we ’ll have lots of fun — and I do love a sail on 
the river. I ’ll wear my new white dress, too,” 
she went on, as the thought of her perfect 


204 KRISTY’S RAINY DAY PICNIC 


freedom grew upon her ; “ I don’t believe I ’ll 
hurt it, and if it is soiled a little it can be done 
up before Aunt Joe’s party that mother ’s so 
wonderfully particular about.” 

It was now time to start for school, but she 
at once decided not to go. “ I ’ll have a good 
time for once,” she said, “ and get rid of that 
horrid grammar lesson. Now I ’ll go over to 
Stella’s and tell her I ’m going and she went 
to her room to get ready. 

“I won’t wear this old dress,” she said 
scornfully ; “ for once I ’ll dress as I please ; 
mother ’s so notional about street dress!” 

In her own room she threw off the scorned 
dark school dress and brought from her clothes- 
press a new light blue silk, just made for 
her to wear on very special occasions. “ I ’ll 
wear this,” she said ; “ I shan’t hurt it ; and I 
want Stella to see that other folks can have 
nice dresses as well as she.” 

Hurriedly she put on the pretty dress and 
the ribbons that went with it. Then, taking 
off her sensible street shoes, she put on the 
delicate ones that belonged to the dress. 


THE GOLD BEADS 


205 


* Looking at herself in the glass, another 
thought occurred to her : “ 1 ’ll wear my gold 
beads, too ; mother never lets me wear them in 
the street, but other folks wear them, and I 
don’t see any use of having things if you can’t 
wear them.” 

From a jewel case in her drawer she took a 
beautiful string of large gold beads. They had 
belonged to her grandmother, and had been 
given to her because she was named after her, 
Letitia, though she had softened it into Lettie, 
“and little enough, too,” she had said, “to 
pay for having such an old-fashioned name, 
when Mildred, or Ethel, or Eva, or Maude 
would have been so much prettier.” 

The beads she clasped around her throat, 
then she pinned on the little gold chatelaine 
watch her mother had given her at Christmas, 
and — resolving for once to wear as much 
jewelry as she liked — she slipped on to her 
finger a ring bequeathed to her by her Aunt 
Letitia. It was of diamonds ; five beautiful 
stones in a row, worth a great deal of money, 
and far too fine for a schoolgirl to wear, her 


206 KRISTY’S RAINY DAY PICNIC 


mother said. Much as she longed to wear it 
and show it to the girls, she had never been al- 
lowed to do so. “ Now,” she exultingly thought, 
“ now I ’ll have the good of it for once ! ” 

To all this finery she added her best hat, 
which had just come home from the milliner’s, 
and taking a pair of fresh white kid gloves in 
her hand, which she could n’t put on to cover 
up that ring, she started out, feeling more 
elegant than she had ever felt in her life 
before. 

The way to Stella’s was through a corner of 
the park, and everything that morning was so 
fresh and sweet that Lettie lingered as she 
passed through. There were not many people 
there so early in the morning, and Lettie paid 
no attention to a rough-looking man she passed, 
sitting on a bench and looking as if he had 
passed the night there. Her way lay on the 
border of the wilder and more secluded part of 
the park, and her mother had always warned 
her to avoid this part when she was alone. 
She had therefore never penetrated the fasci- 
nating little paths which led among the close- 


SHE TRIED TO SCREAM 


207 


growing trees and bushes, though she had 
always longed to do so. Now, on the day of 
her perfect freedom, the temptation came up 
again. She hesitated; her mother’s warning 
recurred to her. 

“ I don’t believe there ’s a bit of danger,” 
she said to herself; “ mother ’s so old-fashioned. 
Girls don’t do as they did when she was 
young ; they can take care of themselves now- 
adays. I mean to see where this little path 
goes ; it looks so lovely and cool in there.” 

She turned into the path. It was charming ; 
birds were singing, flowers blooming, and she 
walked on and on, enchanted. 

After a little, however, she was struck with 
the loneliness of the place, and a thought of her 
mother’s warning made her turn back towards 
the more frequented walks. As she turned 
she found herself facing the man she had 
noticed on the bench, and a panic seized her. 
She tried to rush past him, but he barred 
the way. She tried to scream, but she could 
not make a sound ; and the man spoke. 

“ No you don’t, my fine miss ! If you make 


208 KRISTY’S RAINY DAY PICNIC 

a noise I ’ll brain you ! ” and he flourished a 
heavy stick he carried. “ If you behave your- 
self like a lady,” he went on, less roughly, 
“I ’ll not hurt you in the least.” 

“ Let me pass ! ” cried Lettie, white with 
terror. 

“ Certainly, miss,” said he gruffly, “ in one 
minute; just as soon as you give me those 
beads on your neck, and that watch ; and if 
you hand ’em over quietly yourself you ’ll 
save me the trouble of gagging you with 
this,” — dragging a filthy handkerchief from 
his pocket, — “ and taking them off myself ; ’n 
I ain ’t no lady’s maid, either,” he added 
grimly, “ ’n I might possibly hurt you ! ” 
Frightened half out of her wits, Lettie raised 
her hand to unclasp her necklace, when the 
flash of the diamonds on her finger caught 
the sharp eye of the thief. 

“ Golly,” he said, “ better ’n I thought ! 
I ’ll trouble you to slip off that ring, too.” 

“ Oh, no ! ” cried Lettie, “ I can’t ! ” 

“ Oh, well ! I can take it off myself,” he 
said. “ If it ’s tight I ’ll just take finger and 


ROBBED ! 


209 


all/’ and lie took out and opened a great clasp 
knife. 

Then Lettie saw the uselessness of protest, 
and with despair in her heart she drew off the 
ring and dropped it into the dirty hand ex- 
tended to receive it. Instantly it followed the 
beads and watch into his pocket, and he stood 
aside, leaving the path open for her to pass, 
saying, with a horrid grin, “Now you may 
go, miss, and thank you kindly for your gen- 
erosity.” 

Along that path Lettie flew till she reached 
one of the main avenues where people were 
constantly passing, when she fell into a seat, 
wild-eyed, and almost fainting. 

“What ’s the matter?” asked a gruff po- 
liceman who came near. “ What you been 
doing, miss ? ” 

“ Oh, go after the thief ! ” she cried ; “ I ’ve 
been robbed.” 

“ Which way did he go ? ” asked the man, 
evidently not believing her, the idea of being 
robbed in broad daylight, here in the park, 
appearing to seem absurd to him. 


210 KRISTY’S RAINY DAY PICNIC 


“ Down that path/’ cried Lettie excitedly, 
“ a great rough man with a big stick ! Oh ! do 
go ! he has my gold beads and my diamond 
ring and ” — 

Whether the policeman did not care to 
encounter a rough thief with a big stick, or 
whether he really did not believe her, he here 
interrupted with : — 

“ I guess he has your sense, too ! I think I 
better run you in — you ’ll do fine for the 
crazy ward ! ” 

“ Oh, for Heaven’s sake, no ! ” cried Lettie, 
this new danger filling her with terror. “ Never 
mind; let him go, but don’t arrest me. It 
would kill my mother, and me too ! ” 

“Well, then, don’t talk so crazy,” said he 
gruffly. u I don’t believe your story — nor 
nobody won’t, an’ if it ’s true, ’n I should get 
him, I ’d have to lock you up for a witness. 
Tell me where you live, ’n I ’ll see you safe 
home.” 

“ Oh, no ! ” she cried, tears running down 
her face, “ I ’ll go right home. My mother 
is sick, and it would kill her !” 


“ I WAS A FOOL ! 


211 


The man was evidently touched by her dis- 
tress. 

“Well, miss, you just walk along, and I’ll 
keep you in sight to see that no more robbers 
get after you.” 

With that she was forced to be contented, 
and with all the strength left to her she hur- 
ried along the paths towards home, the po- 
liceman following at a little distance and keep- 
ing her in sight till she ran up the steps of 
her home and disappeared inside. 

Lettie ran up to her room, and, locking the 
door, flung herself on the bed, where she had a 
long cry, partly from nervous strain from the 
fright she had suffered, and partly for the loss 
of her treasures. 

“ I was a fool ! ” she said bitterly. “ Mother 
always told me it was unsafe to wear jewelry 
in the streets and to go into those solitary 
paths in the park ; but I did n’t believe her. 
I was a fool, and I ’m well paid for it ! I ’ll 
never tell her — never ! 

“ And I shall never dare to let father know, 
either,” she went on later; “he’d scour the 


212 KRISTY’S RAINY DAY PICNIC 


world to find that man, and I should have to be 
locked up as a witness,” — she shuddered, — 
“ I ’d rather lose everything.” 

A good deal subdued by this experience, she 
almost decided to give up the particular thing 
which had given her her liberty for the day, 

— the moonlight sail on the river. But after 
hours, when she had calmed down and decided 
that she would keep her experiences and her 
losses a secret from everybody, the thought of 
the great temptation again stirred her, and she 
finally resolved to carry out her plan and go. 

“It’s likely,” she said to herself, “that 
I ’ll never have another chance to do as I like,” 

— not for years, anyway, — and I ’ll have the 
good of this one.” Having come to this 
decision, Lettie found herself hungry, for she 
had been too excited to take any luncheon at 
the usual hour. She accordingly went down 
to the pantry where the cook had spread out 
the morning’s baking; there was a goodly 
array of pies and cakes and other good things 
cooling on the shelves, and Lettie thought her- 
self in great luck. 


A FINE LUNCH 


213 


€C Now I ’ll have a good lunch/’ she said to 
herself, “ and no bread and butter, either ! I 
hate bread and butter! ” 

She helped herself to several little cakes 
which cook made particularly nice, and with 
them she ate part of a jar of marmalade which 
she opened for the purpose; next she took a 
tart or two, and then turned her attention to 
the row of pies on another shelf. Looking 
them over carefully, she chose her favorite, 
a custard pie. “ Now I won’t eat any old crust, 
as mother makes me,” she said. So she took 
a spoon and began on the contents of the 
pie, thus demolishing, I regret to say, a whole 
pie. Then, calmly dipping into a pan of milk, 
taking cream and all, she drank a glass of that, 
and, feeling fully satisfied, she left the pantry, 
and returned to her room to prepare for the 
evening. 

“I guess I ’ll wear this silk dress after all,” 
she said to herself, for she was invited to stay 
all night with Stella after the sail. “ I ’ll have 
to come home through the streets in the morn- 
ing, and if the white one gets soiled it won’t 


214 KRISTY’S RAINY DAY PICNIC 


look very nice; and besides, I want mother 
to see that I can take care of my clothes my- 
self." 

So, wearing her pretty silk dress and delicate 
shoes, and carrying another pair of gloves, — 
for she had lost the white ones in the excite- 
ment of the morning, — she started out, leaving 
word with the servants that she should stay 
with Stella all night. 

She reached the house safely, and was warmly 
welcomed by Stella, and in the excitement of 
planning and talking over the sail of the even- 
ing she almost forgot, for a time, the unplea- 
sant affair of the morning. 

“ It ’s a pity you wore that pretty new dress," 
said Stella, who was clad in a sailor suit of 
dark wool, for the boating ; “ I ’m afraid you ’ll 
spoil it, — a boat ’s a dirty place." 

“ I guess I shan’t hurt it," said Lettie. 

“ I wish you ’d wear one of my woolen suits," 
said Stella; “I hate to see a pretty dress 
spoiled, and that could n’t be hurt." 

“ No, indeed ! " said Lettie ; “ I could n’ t 
wear any one’s dress, and if that gets spoiled — 


WILD FELLOWS 


215 


why, I ’ll have to get another,” she added 
proudly, though she knew in her heart that 
her mother could not afford another, that 
season. 

“ Well,” said Stella, “you must of course 
do as you choose.” 

The boating party consisted, besides Stella 
and Lettie, and Stella’s cousin Maud, of Stella’s 
brother and two of his friends. These two 
young men it was to whom Lettie’s mother had 
objected. They were rather wild fellows, sons 
of rich men, and not obliged to do anything, 
given up to sports and rather noisy pranks in 
the city. They were intimate with Stella’s 
brother, who was one of their kind also. 

The moon rose about nine o’clock that even- 
ing, and at that hour the gay party took their 
way to the little boathouse, where they em- 
barked in a small sailboat which was waiting 
for them. 

The young men understood the manage- 
ment of a boat, and for a time all went well. 
They talked and laughed and sang, and en- 
joyed the moonlight and the rapid motion, 


216 KRISTY’S RAINY DAY PICNIC 


and Lettie thought she never had such a lovely 
time in her life. 

After awhile the spirit of teasing began to 
show itself among the boys. They liked to 
frighten the girls, as thoughtless boys often do, 
and after such harmless pranks as spattering 
water over them, to hear their little screams of 
protest, they fell to the more dangerous, but 
very common, play of rocking the boat, threat- 
ening to upset it. 

The girls, resolved not to be frightened, for 
a long time did not cry out, and this drew the 
boys on to greater exertions, determined to 
make them scream and beg. At last the thing 
happened that so often does happen to reck- 
less boys, — a sudden putf of wind caught 
the sail, the boat lurched, and in a moment the 
whole party were struggling in the water. 

Thoroughly frightened now, the boys, who 
could all Swim, at first struck out for the shore, 
which was at some distance. Then, recalled 
to their senses by the cries of the girls, two of 
them turned back to their aid. Whether they 
would have reached the shore with their fright- 


SERIOUS ENDING 


217 


ened and unmanageable burdens is uncertain, 
but, a tugboat happening to come along, they 
were all picked up and carried to a dock a mile 
or more below. 

There, after waiting a half hour, drenched 
and chilled all through, while the boys tried 
in vain to get a carriage, — for by this time it 
was very late, — the party took a street car, 
which carried them up town, but not near 
Stella’s, and they had to wait another half 
hour at a crossing for another car. 

It was two o’clock in the morning before 
Lettie, with Stella and her brother, reached the 
house, a wretched, draggled-looking, and very 
cross party, all without hats, — for these had 
been lost in the river, — and Lettie, her fine silk 
dress a ruin, her delicate shoes a shapeless mass 
from which the water squirted as she walked. 

By breakfast time Lettie, who was a deli- 
cate girl, was in a high fever, and the doctor, 
who was hastily called in, decided that she was 
threatened with pneumonia. Lettie’s mother 
was notified, and hurried down, and, bundled 
up in many wraps, Lettie was conveyed in an 


218 KRISTY’S RAINY DAY PICNIC 

ambulance to her home and her own bed, 
where she remained for weeks, battling for 
her life, delirious much of the time, and living 
over in fancy the horrors of the day she had 
had her own way* 

Some weeks later, after her recovery, her 
mother, one morning, said quietly, “Lettie, 
let us count up the cost of your doing as you 
liked.” 

Lettie trembled, but her mother went on. 

“ There’s your dress and hat and shoes 
ruined and lost in the river — consequently the 
loss of your visit to your Aunt Joe ; there ’s 
your illness, which deprived you of the school- 
closing festivities ; and the doctor’s bill, which 
took all the money I had saved for our trip to 
the seashore this summer.” 

She was going on, but Lettie, now thor- 
oughly penitent, suddenly resolved to make a 
clean breast of all her losses, and have the 
thing over. 

“ Oh, mother ! ” she cried, burying her 
face in her mother’s lap, “ that is n’t all my 
losses; I must tell you, I can’t bear it any 


LEARNED HER LESSON 219 

longer alone/’ and then with sobs and tears 
she told the dismal story of the robbery. 

“Lettie,” said her mother, “I knew all 
that the very day it happened. After you had 
gone to Stella’s the policeman came to the 
house to see if you had told him the truth. 
When he told me what you had said I went 
to your room and discovered the loss.” 

“ Oh, mother ! ” cried Lettie, “ I ’ll never — 
never ” — 

“ If I had not learned it then,” went on her 
mother, “ I should have known it later, for in 
your delirium you talked of nothing else ; you 
went over that fearful scene constantly. I 
feared it would really affect your reason.” 

“ Oh, mother ! ” cried Lettie, “ you never 
told me!” 

“ We will not speak of it again,” said her 
mother; “ I think you have learned your lesson.” 

“ Do you think it ended well, Kristy ? ” 
asked her mother as she finished the story. 

“ Well,” said Kristy hesitating, “ I suppose 
it was a good thing for her to find out that her 


220 KRISTY’S RAINY DAY PICNIC 

mother was right, — but was n’t it horrid for 
her to lose all those beautiful things ! ” 

“ It was a costly lesson/’ said Mrs. Craw- 
ford ; “ but I think it was much needed — she 
was a willful girl.” 

Just at that moment the door opened and 
Uncle Tom entered. 

“ Well,” he said, “ how did Kristy get 
through the rainy day that spoiled her pic- 
nic?” 

“ In the usual way,” answered Mrs. Craw- 
ford. 

“ Levying on everybody for stories ? ” asked 
Uncle Tom. 

“ Yes,” said Kristy ; “ and I ’ve had the 
loveliest ones ” — 

“ Kristy,” said Uncle Tom, “ I want to give 
you a birthday present, but knowing your pre- 
ference for stories, I did not venture to offer 
you anything else. So, happening to hear a spe- 
cially interesting one to-day, I have persuaded 
the relater to come and tell it to you.” 

Mrs. Crawford looked up in surprise. “ Tom,” 
she said doubtingly, “ what new pranks are 


THE REFUGEE APPEARS 


221 


you up to now? You ’re almost as young as 
Kristy herself.” 

Uncle Tom tried to look very meek, but 
there was a twinkle in his eye which did not 
look meek at all. 

“ Please, sister mine,” he began, “ our 
niece Katherine — otherwise Kate — has just 
got back from San Francisco, or what is left 
of it. She went through the earthquake and 
the fire, lost all her goods and chattels, and 
found a baby, which she has brought home. 
She is in the hall waiting to be received.” 

Before the last words were spoken Mrs. . 
Crawford had risen and hurried into the hall, 
where, sure enough, the refugee from San Fran- 
cisco, a girl about fourteen years old, sat smil- 
ing, with a pretty little girl of perhaps two 
years in her lap. 

“ Uncle Tom wanted me to make my visit 
to you to-night,” she said, after she had been 
warmly welcomed and taken into the sitting- 
room, “ as a present to Kristy, who is as fond 
of stories as ever, I hear.” 

“ Indeed she is ! ” said Mrs. Crawford, “and 


222 KRISTY’S RAINY DAY PICNIC 

in this case we shall all be very much inter- 
ested to hear your adventures. It must have 
been a fearful experience.” 

“ It was,” said Kate ; “ but now that it is 
over I think that I, at least, have gained more 
than I lost, because I found this baby — 
though what I shall do with her I don’t know 
yet. Of course I have tried my best to find 
her parents, for, if living, they must be nearly 
crazy about her.” 

“ Surely they must,” said Mrs. Crawford ; 
“she is a darling.” 

“Well!” interrupted Uncle Tom, looking at 
his watch, “ time is passing ; is Kristy to have 
her story ? ” 

With a smile at his pretended anxiety, Kate 
began. 


CHAPTER XYI 


HOW KATE FOUND A BABY 

I had been spending the winter, as you 
know, with my sister in San Francisco, going 
to school, and I was expecting to come home 
in a few days when the thing happened. 

I was awakened by being flung violently out 
of bed across the room, where all the light fur- 
niture, such as chairs and all loose things, fol- 
lowed me. I tried to get up, but I could not 
stand, the house shook so. It seemed like a ship 
in a rough sea. In a minute the plastering 
began to fall, and I feared it would fall on my 
head, so by hard work I dragged myself to 
the door, which I tried to open. At first it was 
jammed so tight together that I could not stir 
it, but the next shake of the house flung it 
wide open, and I crept into the hall, where I 
found the whole family hurrying out of their 
rooms, all in nightclothes, of course, and 
scared most to death. 


224 KRISTY’S RAINY DAY PICNIC 


“ We must get out of the house before the 
walls fall,” said my brother-in-law, helping 
his wife down the stairs, which swayed and 
tottered as if they would fall, every minute. 
We all followed them in such a hurry that I 
don’t remember how I got to the bottom. I 
only remember finding myself on the sidewalk 
in my nightdress, barefooted and bareheaded, 
of course. 

We did not think how we looked; the 
street was full of people, many of them as lit- 
tle dressed as we, and all hurrying to get out 
of the streets, where any minute the houses 
might fall on them. Our apartment was in a 
large apartment house in a street full of tall 
buildings, and when I looked up at them I 
saw them rock and bend towards each other, 
so that it seemed as if they would fall to- 
gether and crush us all. 

My first trouble was getting separated from 
my sister and her husband, in the confusion 
of the crowd. I soon found myself alone 
among strangers. I tried to turn back to find 
them, but everybody was going the other way 


STRANGE SIGHTS 


225 


and I could n’t move a step, so I had to go 
with the crowd. I was pushed and hurried 
on with the rest towards a park at the end 
of the street, feeling desolate enough, you 
may be sure. 

Strange things I saw on the way ; none of 
the people more than half dressed, and many 
of them just as they got out of bed, but 
one and all, except myself, carrying some of 
their possessions. Some had armfuls of clothes 
which they had snatched up as they ran, and 
they kept dropping shoes and light things, so 
that the street was littered with them and I 
was constantly stumbling over them ; some 
had an armful of books or papers ; others 
carried pieces of china or silver ; many had 
satchels or suit-cases, and one or two were drag- 
ging trunks. 

A great many people had children; some * 
holding one and dragging one or two others ; 
more than one I saw carrying sick persons 
unable to walk. 

It was curious to see the number of pets that 
were being carried ; birds, of course, many in 


226 KRISTY’S RAINY DAY PICNIC 

cages, but some in the hands — such as parrots. 
One woman had three cages of canaries, which 
she had the greatest difficulty in holding ; an- 
other had a birdcage in one hand and a great 
cat in the other arm. There was no end to the 
small dogs in arms — barking and howling, 
most of them ; but the cats were struggling as 
if scared out of their wits. Sometimes a bird 
or a cat would break away and disappear at 
once in the crowd, and I wondered where the 
poor things went. But many were carried 
safely, I am sure, for the park, where we 
all — thousands of us — spent the day and 
night, seemed to have almost as many animals 
as people. 

In the park I found the baby. She was sit- 
ting on the ground, holding in her arms a big 
cat. She was smiling and talking to “ Kitty,” 
and did not seem at all frightened by the crowd 
and the confusion around her. I thought her 
mother must have left her for a minute, and 
I sat down beside her to keep watch that no 
harm came to her. 

There I sat all that day and night, but no 




the jwh H found a baby • * • 
• • and 1 *at douin beside it . 






















































































































































































A DREADFUL NIGHT 227 

one came to claim her. She could not tell me 
anything, of course, but she took kindly to me. 
Indeed, she seemed to adopt me from the first 
minute, and she was so sweet I could n’t bear 
to leave her. She never once cried except when 
she got very hungry, and when she found, 
in the morning, that her cat had gone. 

I had, after the first attempt, given up going 
about looking for my sister. I knew she would 
be looking for me, and I could not bear to leave 
the baby, as I said. Through that long night I 
sat watching the city burn, holding in my arms 
the dear little thing, who slept through it all. I 
was so excited that I almost forgot that I was 
not dressed. Many people around me were in 
the same plight, but it was a warm night, so 
that we did not suffer. 

But how alone I did feel ! I did not know 
whether Belle and Harry were alive, nor how I 
should ever get home. It seemed as if we 
should all be burned up, anyway. The park 
was almost as crowded as a city ; people every- 
where around me ; some lying asleep, tired 
out, on the bare ground ; others mourning 


228 KRISTY’S RAINY DAY PICNIC 


over their losses, and others guarding the few 
things they had saved. One woman near me 
had two pillow-cases full of things, which she 
sat on all night, and another had a bedquilt, 
which she spread out for her four children to 
lie on. 

It ’s very queer, but I seem to forget about 
a good deal of the time the next day, for I can 
hardly remember how long it was when, after 
hours of walking, it seemed to me, I reached 
the place where food was being given out, the 
baby in my arms, of course. And not until I 
had eaten a piece of bread and seen her nib- 
bling on one, too, did I seem to come to myself 
and rouse myself to see what I could do. 

All this time baby was still mourning her 
lost kitty, and trying to take every cat she saw. 
It was wonderful how many people had cats 
with them ; some held by a string, some in 
birdcages, but many held in arms. When 
the people got food I noticed that they al- 
ways seemed to share with their pets. There 
were a great many dogs, but they were not so 
wild as the cats ; they stayed by their friends. 


HER FEET BLISTERED 229 

There were lots and lots of canaries in 
cages, and parrots and other large birds, 
some in cages and some held in hands or 
seated on the shoulders of their owners. 

After having something to eat and getting 
really waked up, I began to think what I 
should do. My first thought was to try to 
get over to Oakland, where we had friends, 
so I started off towards the ferry. My feet 
were blistered and sore, and it was hard to 
walk ; my hair was flying every way, for of 
course my braids had come out and I had no 
comb or brush. I must have looked like a 
crazy creature. As I came past a wagon in 
which a woman was distributing clothes, she 
noticed me and spoke to me. I had not seen 
that she had clothes. She called out, “ See here, 
my girl ! I think I have a bundle for you ,” and 
she put a large package in my hands, marked, 
“ To be given to some one girl in need.” 

“ You look like the one for whom this was 
intended,” she said kindly, as I took the pack- 
age, “ and I think I can give you something 
for the baby, too,” she went on. 


230 KRISTY’S RAINY DAY PICNIC 


She did not find any clothes suitable, but she 
gave me a white flannel petticoat to wrap 
round her. Then I borrowed a knife from a 
man who was cutting bread, and cut armholes, 
and slipped the petticoat over her. The band 
came around her shoulders, and her nightgown 
covered her neck and arms. She did look too 
cute for anything in her odd dress. 

As soon as I could find a rather quiet place 
under a low tree — for I was still in the park 

— I opened my bundle. I wish I could know 
the woman who made up that package, I should 
like to have her know what a godsend it was ; 
why, it held a complete outfit for a girl of my 
size, from shoes and stockings up to a hat. 
Nothing had been forgotten — underclothes — 
towel — soap — comb — pins — handkerchief 

— even ribbons to tie the hair. Above all, a 
comfortable dress of some gray goods, which 
fitted me pretty well. 

It didn’t take me long to put them on, to 
comb my hair, and wash myself and baby with 
the towel wet in a pond, and then I began to 
feel more like myself. With both of us com- 


THE WORLD BURNING! 


231 


fortably dressed I started again with fresh 
courage for the ferry to Oakland. 

I had to go a very roundabout way, so many 
streets were closed because of the fires raging 
everywhere. I haven’t said much about the 
fires, but it seemed to me the whole world was 
burning up. I am sure I walked miles, and not 
knowing that part of the city very well, I guess 
I walked more than I needed to. 

As I was passing wearily down one of the 
streets I happened to glance over the other 
side, and saw my brother-in-law. He was hurry- 
ing the other way, going out towards the park, 
looking for me. 

I cried out, “ Harry ! ” 

He turned, looked over, but seeing only 
a well-dressed girl with a child in her arms, 
was rushing, on when I called out again. 

“ Harry ! don’t you know me ? I ’m 
Kate ! ” 

Then he hurried over, perfectly astounded. 

“ Why, Kate ! ” he cried, “ where did you 
get those clothes ? Did you bring them from 
the house ? And whose baby is that ? Thank 


232 KRISTY’S RAINY DAY PICNIC 


God I have found you ! Belle is nearly crazy 
about you ! ” 

Of course I told my story as we hurried to 
the ferry. He did not object to the baby ; he 
fell in love with her as I had, and neither of 
us dreamed of leaving her, and he carried her 
himself. He told me that he and my sister, 
after looking in vain for me, and suffering 
agonies about me, had managed to get over 
the ferry that first day, and were with friends 
in Oakland. As soon as he got Belle safely 
through he had come back to look for me. He 
had great trouble to get back, for people were 
not allowed to land in the city. He had to hire 
a man who had a small boat to bring him 
over. He had been roaming the streets ever 
since — that was a whole day and another 
night, you know. 

He had brought from Oakland a raincoat 
to put over me, the only thing that could be 
found, our friends having already given every- 
thing they had to destitute people. Even my 
sister, he said, was not more than half dressed. 
The raincoat, which he held on his arm, I 


A FEARFUL CROWD 


233 


did not need, and when we came upon a lady 
not even so well dressed as I had been, I 
proposed to give it to her. She took it with 
sobs and tears of thanks. Learning that she 
had friends in Oakland, Harry offered to have 
her join us, but she was looking for her family 
and would not go. 

You can’t imagine what crowds were pack- 
ing the ferry boats. We had to wait hours be- 
fore we could get on one. Such a jam I never 
saw. I should never have got over alone. I had 
to hang on to Harry’s arm with all my strength, 
while he held baby up high so that she should 
not be crushed. It was fearful! 

On the boat were more strange sights. I 
saw several women with big hats on, and no- 
thing else but nightclothes ; but queerest were 
men in similar costume with hats on their 
heads — they did look too funny for anything. 
I saw girls with dolls in their arms, and some 
with cats and dogs and parrots. A good many 
women had Japanese kimonos, and others were 
loaded with jewelry, chains and bracelets, and 
there were people wrapped like Indians, in 


234 KRISTY’S RAINY DAY PICNIC 


blankets and sheets they had snatched from 
their beds. Oh, I can never tell you half the 
strange things I saw on that boat ! 

When we got to our friends in Oakland we 
found the house full, and my sister had been 
almost wild about me. She was surprised 
enough to see me well dressed, and with baby, 
too. 

Of course none of us had any money, and 
our friends had given away all they happened 
to have out of the bank at the time, so we 
had to stay there a few days. The railroads 
carried people free to Los Angeles, and there 
my brother-in-law could get money and buy 
clothes, but the cars were so crowded that it 
was two or three days before we could get a 
chance to go, and when we did get there we 
stayed a few days to prepare for our journey 
home. Belle came with me and baby, but Harry 
went back to San Francisco to see about start- 
ing business again. 

Belle wants to keep baby herself, unless 
her parents appear, but I can’t bear to give 
her up, though I suppose it would be ridicu- 


GOOD NIGHT 


235 


lous for a schoolgirl to adopt a baby, and 
mother such an invalid that she could n’t have 
the care of her. Is n’t she sweet, though ? 

“ She ’s a precious pet,” said Mrs Crawford, 
holding her closely in her arms. “ I should 
dearly love to keep her myself ! ” 

“ Oh, do ! ” cried Kristy eagerly, “ that is, 
if Kate ’ll give her up. What ’s her name, 
Kate?” 

u Of course I don’t know her real name,” 
said Kate ; “ but I think I shall call her Fran- 
cesca, after the place where I found her.” 

“ That ’ll be good,” said Kristy. 

But now Uncle Tom interrupted, taking the 
sleepy baby in his arms. 

“ Miss Francesca ought to be in bed long 
ago, so we must say good-night, everybody,” 
and he started off. Kristy cried after him, 
“ Good-night, Uncle Tom, and thank you for 
the fine ending to my Rainy Day Picnic.” 


($t)e fiifcergfae 

Electrotyped and printed by H . O. Houghton &* Co. 
Cambridge , Mass., U. S. A. 































